One Step Forward
by marissa-christina
Summary: He wasn't a nice guy and she knew it, but everyone has their reasons for acting the way they do, don't they? Amy is willing to take a step in getting to know the real Ricky Underwood, just as he gets the courage to face up to his own responsibilities.
1. Reaching Out

With summer coming to a close, I decided that I need a new change of pace. My sister got me hooked on this show around episode four, so I've been throwing a few ideas around to create a decent plot of how I wish the actual storyline would go. I'm not exactly sure how many chapters I'll do, but we'll see how well received this little ficlet is. And If you can't tell by the end, I'm a sucker for Amy/Ricky ships.

Happy reading.

**I own nothing of _The Secret Life of the American Teenager_ except the plot and any unfamiliarity's that are woven into it. Everything else belongs solely to Brenda Hampton.**

* * *

**"****One Step Forward"**

**--Chapter One: Reaching Out--**

**By marissa-christina**

* * *

_Pregnancy. Adoption. Abortion. Fifteen._

Those four words had become a mantra that echoed repeatedly through her head for days on end, a blatant, ugly reminder of what was slowly molding her life into the mess that it was. Who would have thought that one thoughtless moment in time between two people could result in something so life-altering that the very foundation of their beings could be shaken so much?

_She was only fifteen._

Punching her fist into her comforter, Amy leaned her head back against her headboard, closing her eyes against the stinging sensation that she was becoming all too familiar with as she hugged her pillow to her chest, resisting the urge to clamp it over her ears as the shouting escalated from below. Ashley had poked her head in earlier, muttering something about hiding out with Amy until it was quiet; until the sound of the door slamming shut marked the end to yet another fight between their parents.

Amy had only nodded listlessly and barely acknowledged her sister as the younger girl slipped inside her bedroom. Ashley sighed softly and took a seat on the bed as Amy finally opened her eyes. "I wish they'd stop," she murmured, running her fingers through her hair in a decidedly frazzled gesture. Ashley snorted and leveled her sister with that all too perceptive stare of hers.

"They're not going to, no matter what you say or do. They're going to keep fighting and we're still going to be a broken family." Her statement was blunt--one of Ashley's trademarked characteristics--but Amy could hear the bitterness expressed there. She could hear the unspoken accusation that was directed at her.

She winced and clutched the pillow tighter. "I know. I know that, but I don't think yelling at one another is going to make anything better. It's not going to change anything."

Ashley shrugged and hooked a long strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Dad's having an affair," she said evenly. "Dad's having an affair and you're pregnant. I guess if yelling's the worst that they're doing, we should feel kind of lucky."

_She was pregnant._

Amy's hand instinctively went to her stomach, her fingers splaying out over the slight distension that was barely visible through her shirt. "Yeah, maybe." She didn't miss Ashley's eyes follow the movement as she turned her head away to gaze out her window. The sun was sinking beneath the horizon, dusk settling in over the quiet little town. Amy bit her lip. "Maybe not. Nothing makes sense anymore."

Ashley was quiet for a minute. "Mimzy called a little while ago. She got to the home safe."

Amy wasn't able to muster up anything to say about their grandmother. She loved Mimzy dearly, and she was devastated by her grandmother's admission to having early set Alzheimer's, and likewise disgusted at herself for even feeling the least bit put out when Mimzy simultaneously confessed that she couldn't take Amy in during the next six months as planned. At the same time, Amy was also hard-pressed not to admit, even to herself, that she was glad for the disruption. Running away to Mimzy's had only been an excuse not to deal with everything, hadn't it? It had been just another reason to deny that she was being forced into adulthood far sooner than she had ever planned.

"Have you talked to Ben lately?"

Amy blinked in surprise, and pulled her eyes away from her window to look at her sister. "Not much," she said quietly. "He's called me, but I haven't really been up to talking."

Ben. Ben Boykewich. A fifty-five year old man trapped inside the lanky, awkward body of a fifteen year old boy. Her boyfriend of a month and seven days. The boy that had been her rock throughout this entire ordeal thus far. The boy who said he loved her. The boy who wanted to marry her. The boy who wanted to be the father to her baby.

_Because she was fifteen and pregnant. _

And despite the cheesy phrases he constantly said, the old-style mannerisms he seemed to favor, and his habit of filling her voicemail with continuous declarations of his love for her at all hours of the night, she really did love him. Yet, there was always something missing in their relationship, and Amy often pondered about what exactly it was that kept her from feeling as strongly about Ben as he felt about her.

The harsh trill of her cell phone startled her out of her thoughts, and she reached her arm out to snag it from her nightstand. The number that flashed onto the tiny LCD screen wasn't one she recognized, but the area code was familiar and she flipped it open and held it up to her ear, ignoring the curious look Ashley shot her. "Hello?"

"_Amy?" _

She nearly dropped the phone at the smooth, easy voice that greeted her and almost immediately felt a surge of anger flow through her, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "How did you get my number?" she asked in a pinched sort of tone.

"_One of your friends gave it to me; Lauren, I think it was," _he replied, and Amy felt the anger start to rise again at the smugness he never seemed to get rid of when he spoke, and at the implication that Lauren would do something so underhanded when Amy had explicitly forbade her from doing it.

"I told you I would call you when and if I wanted to," she grit out. Ashley leaned in, straining to make out the conversation. Amy heard him sigh, and she could almost envision him running his hand down his face in exasperation. Ever since that night in her living room a few weeks prior, she hadn't seen or spoken to him, and he didn't try to contact her, despite his voiced desire to do just that when she unceremoniously kicked him out of her house. However, if she were really honest with herself, she was more surprised he hadn't called her sooner. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got, not only at him, but at herself for even feeling that she had actually _wanted_ him to call her.

"_I know that, but I haven't heard anything from you in the last week or so. I heard about you deciding not to go to your grandmother's, and I realized we needed to talk." _He paused and Amy could make out a faint noise in the background that resembled the sound a car made pulling into a driveway. "_I told you; I want to be involved in this, too. I deserve that much." _

Amy barked out an incredulous laugh. "I don't think you deserve much of anything, Ricky, and to be honest, I'm still not sure I want anything to do with you."

Ricky was silent for a moment. _"I can understand that, but it doesn't change the fact that that baby is just as much a part of me as it is you, Amy, and I want it to know my part. We both know that I'm not a nice guy, and I don't have a great track record, but I'm willing to try if you'll let me." _

Ashley's mouth dropped open, and Amy clutched the phone to her ear with stiff, white fingers. "I don't know," she admitted as honestly as she could. "Why should I risk something like that with you when I have Ben? Explain it to me, Ricky. You said it yourself: you're not a nice guy. What makes you think you can change that now?" At the same time, deep down, Amy knew that she really did want Ricky to take some responsibility for the situation. Even though Ben was willing to step in, she just couldn't feel right about it. Ben was a great person, but the bottom line was that Ricky was her baby's father. He needed to prove to her that he was capable of filling that role before she could ever seriously consider Ben. She owed him that chance at least, didn't she?

"_Well, we'll never know unless we give it a shot, will we?" _Ricky said. He paused before continuing._ "You don't have to like me, Amy. You don't even have to pretend to like me. All I'm asking for is the chance to be involved in the process, whether it be doctor's appointments or choosing an adoption agency. I want to have some say. All you need to do is let me." _

Amy swallowed hard, and looked at Ashley. Her younger sister was staring at the phone with an expression of mild interest on her face, her eyes thoughtful. Glancing up at Amy, she gave her a steady nod, her message clear: _Give him a shot._

Biting her lip, she adjusted the phone. "_If _I decide, it's only going to be on my terms." There was no room for discussion on that particular detail, and Amy was ready to fight Ricky tooth and nail if he was going to challenge it.

However, for the second time that night, Ricky Underwood surprised her.

"_I figured it would be, and I have no problem with it." _He sounded so sincere that Amy had to repress the urge to pull the phone away and look at it in amazement.

"Okay, then," she finished lamely. Shaking her head, she cleared her throat. "When I schedule my next appointment, I'll let you know."

"_I'd appreciate that. I guess I'll see you around then?" _

Amy closed her eyes. "I guess so."

"_All right. Oh, and Amy? Thanks." _

She sighed heavily. "Don't thank me yet, Ricky," she murmured as she snapped the phone shut and tossed it on the bed before burying her face in her pillow with a loud groan.

Ashley pulled it out of her reach. "I think they've stopped," she remarked, inclining her head towards the door and at the silence that had settled from downstairs. Amy only shrugged and grabbed for the pillow again. Ashley rolled her eyes and dropped it over her sister's head. "How's Ben going to feel when he finds out you're going to let Ricky get involved?" she asked suddenly. Amy scowled.

"He's going to have to deal with it, I guess," she said firmly. "And it's still not a done deal. But, with the assumption that it will be, Ben will get to have his say and I'll still be the one making the decisions." Bemused, Ashley cocked an eyebrow.

"It sounded like a done deal," she stated as she stood up and headed for the door. Pausing as she twisted the doorknob, she glanced back at her sister. "For what it's worth, I think you're making the right choice." Her lips lifted upwards into a smirk as a sudden thought struck her. "You didn't stutter once, either," she said, almost admirably, before slipping out of the room and leaving Amy to reflect, once again, on the way her life was turning out.

However, this time, rather than sink back into the funk she'd let herself fall into, Amy Juergens could admit to herself that she didn't feel quite so alone anymore as she curled up on her bed and fell asleep.

And about four miles from her bedroom, Ricky Underwood shoved his cell phone into his jeans and stood up from the table in the darkened kitchen and allowed himself a little smile--a _real_ smile-- as he sauntered up the stairs towards his bedroom.

_She was fifteen and pregnant and he was going to see it through with her. _


	2. Stalemate

I have to say that I was absolutely flabbergasted by the amount of feedback I received over the past few days, but I am so, so grateful. It's always a pleasure to read everyone's input, and it's been a while since I've gotten such a warm reception for something that was originally intended to be a one-shot. Thanks so much.

Happy reading!

**I own nothing of The Secret Life of the American Teenager except the plot and any unfamiliarity's that are woven into it. Everything else belongs solely to Brenda Hampton.**

* * *

"**One Step Forward"**

**--Chapter Two: Stalemate--**

**By marissa-christina**

* * *

"What?"

Amy bit her lip and looked away from Ben's incredulous expression, suddenly finding the pattern embroidered on the hem of her magenta-colored shirt very interesting.

After a lot of thinking and staring at her bedroom ceiling, Amy figured that she had to tell Ben about her conversation with Ricky and at her mother's urging she finally called him. Ben answered before the first ring was half over, his voice sounding so elated, so relieved, that Amy realized she owed it to him to explain the situation to him in person. They agreed to meet at the park, at their bench. When Amy had gotten there, Ben was pacing anxiously in front of the bench. When he caught sight of her, she couldn't even blink before he closed the distance between them and had her wrapped in a tight embrace.

"You can't be serious," he choked out, leaning his face in towards hers, his deep brown eyes searching for anything that could belie Amy's words, which had to be, in his opinion, pure blasphemy on her part. "Please tell me that this is just a really bad joke, that you're really not actually considering letting Ricky-the-Angsty-Drummer-Boy into anything." Amy kept her expression neutral as she slid back along the bench, putting some much needed distance between herself and the near-hysterical boy.

"I am," she said carefully, pulling her gaze from her lap. "I know it sounds crazy, but I just feel like it's the right thing to do." Ben snorted and shook his head, ignoring the uncharacteristic glint that flashed through Amy's eyes as he kneaded his temples with his fingertips.

"What do your parents think about this? Your dad?" he shot back abruptly. He had heard about Ricky's run-in with George Juergens at Adrian's house a week earlier, and he was well aware that if anyone could ensure that the troubled drummer didn't get within a foot of Amy, it'd be her temperamental father.

"He's not happy about it," Amy intoned quietly. She couldn't help but feel a stirring of acute annoyance swell within her when Ben's eyes seemed to brighten at her admission. "My mom told me in the beginning to talk to Ricky, though, and I'm starting to see that maybe she was right."

Ben frowned as he reached out and curled his fingers over her hand. "Okay, but why now? I thought we agreed that I'd be there for you; that I'd take care of you and the baby."

She sighed softly. "I know, and I'm grateful, Ben, but I need to know whether or not he can take this seriously. I owe it to myself and I owe it to my baby." She stopped herself and leveled him with a permeating stare that willed him to understand her reasoning. "And maybe I owe it to him, too, by giving him the chance to make it right."

The boy was quiet for a long moment, choosing to gaze intently at the fountain in front of them while absently rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. A little boy, about four years old, ran up to the edge of the small, elevated pool and eagerly dipped in his hand, no doubt trying to nab some change from the bottom before his mother pulled him away while a man, his father probably, laughed at the boy's antics. Seeing a similar image in his mind's eye, Ben sighed and raised his head to meet her gaze. "I get it," he finally allowed, and he was rewarded a small smile for his efforts. "I don't like it, but I get it and I get _you_, and I love you, and I'll stand by you and your decisions."

Amy's smile widened, lending an added sparkle to her hazel eyes. "I appreciate that, Ben," she murmured sincerely, her relief evident in the marked lack of tension with which she held herself now.

Ben smiled back before scooting forward, closing the gap between them as he leaned his head down to press his lips softly against hers. Amy sighed into the kiss, and if Ben felt the trace reluctance she wasn't able to resist from doing, he didn't show it. He broke the kiss with a cheeky grin, and pulled away as a wash of contentment played over his face. He wrapped an arm around Amy's shoulders and tugged her to his side. "Have your parents said anything else about us getting married?" he asked casually enough, but Amy could hear the slight waver in his voice.

"They're against it," she replied evenly. "It's been the only issue that they've actually agreed on."

"Oh." His disappointment was a palpable thing, and while she understood it, Amy felt like another weight was slowly being lifted off of her. She was fifteen, pregnant, and still in her first year of high school, and the thought that she would end up becoming a wife in addition to all that stress made her want to scream. Besides, marrying Ben was just another excuse to run, wasn't it? And if she did, would it end like her parent's marriage: a "rescue" that would eventually fall apart and leave her with nothing but a half-lived life and constant what-could-have-beens?

She'd been living with that irrefutable knowledge since the very beginning; denying it with everything she had, even though the prime example stared her in the face every single day the way only a mother could.

Until now, when her answer was so blatantly obvious that she had to wonder why she had even considered anything else in the first place.

Biting her lip, Amy steeled her resolve. "Ben, I love that you want to marry me, even with all this baggage, but we have to be realistic." His head snapped up in astonishment at the bluntness with which she spoke, something that was entirely un-Amy-like, and he had the sneaking suspicion that what she was about to say was going to be something he wouldn't like. "We're only fifteen. We're only _freshmen _in high school! As much as I want to believe that getting married would solve everything, it won't, and I can't ask you to uproot your entire life because I made a mistake."

"I will because I want to be with you!" Ben replied fervently, ignoring the curious stares of passerbys as shot to his feet, flailing his arms out in frustration. The breeze picked up, and Amy held her hair down while Ben's loose shirt was blown forward, backward, the green material hugging to his thin frame, ruled by the wind's unpredictable whims. "I love you, Amy!" It was like a scene from a movie, where the male lead made his final stand, his final declaration.

She ran her fingers through her hair as she stood, too. "I don't doubt that, but look at this, Ben!" she exclaimed, startling him with her outburst as she made a sharp motion with her hands towards her stomach. "We're too young to get married! Just because I'm pregnant, that doesn't mean marriage will make it better or any less complicated than it already is and I just can't handle that right now!"

He seemed taken aback, and his arms dropped limply by his side just as Amy wrapped hers protectively around herself, her gaze alternating between looking up at his face and down at the scuffed toe of her favorite boots. When he didn't speak, she heaved a sigh and bent to pick up her purse from the ground. "Look, I-I…I think what I need right now is some space, Ben," she said in a very small voice, the tremble in her tone audible as she blinked back the moisture that threatened to break free from her lashes. "I need some time to think."

Ben swallowed back the lump that had lodged itself in his throat. "Y-yeah, okay. Space; gotcha," he muttered, almost dazedly. Amy made a choked sort of sound, and despite the fact that his heart was now settled securely in the pit of his stomach, Ben ducked his head and placed a quick, meaningful kiss to her temple before walking away without a word.

Amy watched his retreating back, sniffling miserably at the noted slump of his shoulders as he disappeared around the corner and out of sight. Hastily wiping her eyes with clumsy fingers, she hefted her bag over her arm and turned heel to walk back in the direction of her house. At that moment her cell phone vibrated in her pocket, and she nearly dropped her bag in surprise as it sent a jolt throughout her leg. Pulling the phone out, she spared it a quick glance, not the least bit surprised to see her house number flash onto the caller ID before stuffing it back into her pocket and quickening her pace, all the while never noticing the bright red convertible that had stopped up alongside the road, nor the pair of dark, heavily lined mocha-colored eyes that narrowed disbelievingly as they followed Amy's form as she slipped inside her house.

Glossy, full lips pressed together in a firm line before twisting downwards into a frown.

'_What the hell?'_


	3. Speculation

As you can see, I'm veering off of the original plotline and adding some twists of my own, which is what I will continue to do as the story progresses. I will reference back to the show whenever a new episode airs, but for the duration the plot of this particular story is something entirely different. Again, thank you for your support and I promise to make sure the coming chapters are longer. Don't worry; scenes with two certain people are coming, so just be patient.

Happy reading!

**I own nothing of The Secret Life of the American Teenager except the plot and any unfamiliarity's that are woven into it. Everything else belongs solely to Brenda Hampton.**

* * *

"**One Step Forward"**

**--Chapter Three: Speculation--**

**By marissa-christina**

* * *

"What's happening to my life?" she wondered aloud as she despondently poked at a piece of chicken with her fork, the meal becoming more and more unappetizing the longer she stared at it. Ashley just continued to cut her meat, while Anne, grimacing sympathetically, reached over and squeezed her daughter's hand.

"You're growing up, sweetie," she said. Amy dropped her fork on her plate and leaned back in her chair, clasping her hands together over her stomach.

"Yeah, well, it sucks, Mom. It feels like everything is falling apart."

Her mother sighed, failing to find any words to appease her daughter.

It'd been three hours since she had officially broke things off with Ben, and to say that Amy was upset was an understatement. When she had returned home after the disastrous outing, her mother had been seated at the kitchen table with a faraway look in her eyes, her hands wrapped around a mug of tepid coffee, the phone set beside it. As Amy shut the door behind her, Anne broke free from her thoughts and nudged the chair back, standing up as she prepared to grill her daughter—ever since finding out the big secret, she was much quicker to demand an explanation for anything Amy did now—for not telling her where she had been going. At Amy's telltale puffy eyes, though, she relented and instead held Amy close as the girl began to cry. It was about ten minutes before Amy managed to compose herself enough to explain what had happened, and Anne hadn't seemed very surprised by the turn of events.

"I still don't see why you dumped Ben," Ashley piped in, shooting her sister a curious glance as she sipped her soda. "I mean sure, the guy's a little sappy, but he offered to marry you and play daddy to the baby. He helped stop you from getting an abortion. What's the problem?"

Amy groaned and ran her fingers through her hair. "Ben's been incredible to me, and that's part of the problem." Ashley and their mother both cocked an eyebrow, and Amy fumbled in an attempt to put to words her feelings. "He's known me for what, a little over a month? We go on one date and he's telling me he loves me. Then he finds out I'm pregnant, and he still sticks with me, even going as far as proposing. He's amazing, and I'm lucky to have him in my life."

Ashley waved her hand in a languorous fashion. "And?" she pressed. "I don't hear anything particularly tragic in that arrangement."

Anne, however, nodded in understanding, and smiled a little at her daughter, who heaved a heavy sigh. "Don't you see, Ashley? Ben doesn't deserve to be saddled with someone like me, and I can't move forward with anything unless he understands that. And if I'm completely honest with myself, we were moving way too fast as it was and I just can't handle that right now." She hadn't realized that finally admitting that to her mother after all this time keeping it bottled up would make her feel better, but Amy felt like she had just come up for a precious breath of air after being smothered. It was just unfortunate it had been by Ben's undying affection. He really was getting the short end of the stick, wasn't he? Amy clenched her fists. _'I'm such a selfish person…'_

"It wasn't for lack of trying, Amy," Anne cut in gently. "You said Ben's mother died a few years ago, right?" At Amy's nod of affirmation, her mother continued. "I think that Ben wanted to find someone who could fill in the void she left behind, and you fit the bill. I'm sure his feelings are genuine, but I think you made the right decision for the both of you."

Amy ducked her head and stared at her hands. "You didn't see his face, Mom," she murmured softly, disheartened. Anne rubbed her arm.

"He'll come to terms eventually, honey. Right now, worry about yourself."

"Myself," she echoed as Anne and Ashley stood up and began to gather their plates. Amy pushed her chair back and headed for the stairs to hide out in her room. She chuckled in a self-deprecating way as she shut her door and flung herself onto her bed. Worry about herself? The suggestion was laughable. How on earth could she? She had dumped the one guy on the planet who wanted to marry her, her friends were deserting her, and she was _the_ number one person to talk about throughout the entire school district. The only thing she had going for her was Ricky Underwood, the troubled drummer boy, resident high school player, and one-hundred percent, certified, grade-A jackass, attempting to step up and take responsibility for the part he played in causing this whole mess.

She was completely and utterly screwed.

"Where do I even start?"

* * *

Weeks prior, if there was one person Adrian Lee would have called in order to divulge information to; it sure as hell wouldn't have been Grace "Goody-Good" Bowman.

Shows how much one person's misfortunes could affect the lives surrounding her. Amy Juergens was a one-girl El Niño and she had made landfall in their small, suburban town.

Sitting in the familiar living room setting, Adrian could honestly say that she wasn't nearly as uncomfortable being there as she had been the first time she had sat on the plush sofa. The Bowman house was exceedingly homely, an obvious reflection on the people who lived there.

"Do you want ice in it or not?" her voice called out, wafting in from the kitchen.

"Yeah, thanks."

Grace strode into the room a few seconds later carrying two glasses of iced tea, handing one to Adrian before seating herself beside her. Adrian smiled her thanks and took a sip while the blonde cheerleader grinned back. "You know, I was really surprised that you called," she admitted. Gasping quietly at how that must have sounded, she hastily added, "Not that I'm complaining! It was good hearing from you."

Adrian cleared her throat. "Yeah, well. I figured I needed to talk to someone." Grace absolutely glowed.

"And you picked me? I'm so glad." Adrian snickered quietly, abruptly wondering when the ever-perky cheerleader's ever-peppy voice had stopped grating her nerves.

'_Probably when I actually started to like her,' _she finished, chuckling at the irony.

"Where're your parents and Tom?" Adrian remarked casually, having noticed the other three family members absent. Grace smiled.

"They went over to the church to discuss the next fundraiser event with our minister. It's to help raise money for children with Down syndrome," she clarified, her smile widening. "It was Tom's idea." The pride in her voice when she spoke of her brother was apparent, and Adrian nodded her agreement, unable to hold back from smiling herself. "I hope you'll come."

"We'll see." She liked the Bowmans well enough, and Tom was always a pleasure to be around, but Adrian still wasn't into the whole church atmosphere that they were so dedicated to. But, who knew? Maybe another shot at church functions was in order…

"Great. So, how are you? You sounded pretty urgent on the phone," Grace asked, bringing her glass to her lips. "Is everything okay?"

Adrian flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Yeah—well, no. I guess it depends on how you look at it." She carefully explained the story to Grace, who, once Adrian finished, stared at her with wide, disbelieving blue eyes.

"Are you serious?" she whispered harshly, covering her mouth with a delicate hand. Adrian could only nod, and Grace shook her head, blonde curls falling over her forehead as she pondered over what Adrian's words implied. "I can't believe it."

"I know. Imagine my surprise at seeing the Sausage Prince and his reigning princess walk away in opposite directions without so much as a wave goodbye."

When she had gunned the engine and drove away from the park, Adrian's mind had been positively racing with questions as she struggled to understand what she had just witnessed. She knew just as well as anyone that Ben Boykewich was head over heels for Amy, and while she found their whole relationship way too sweet—who falls in love that fast with a girl carrying another guy's baby, anyway?—she never thought in a million years that Amy would be the one to break things off. The girl was just too polite, too _shy_, to do anything of that sort, especially with her situation. The boy had wanted to _marry_ her, for God's sakes!

Once Amy had gone inside her house, Adrian immediately pulled out her cell phone, needing to tell someone about this dramatic turn of events. The first person on her mind had been Ricky, but that notion left quickly enough. Ever since he had told her about wanting to get involved with Amy's pregnancy and she had cut her ties with him, Adrian couldn't bring herself to talk to him.

With Ricky out, she also quickly realized that there wasn't really anyone else she _could _call. Her mother wasn't really a factor, not that she'd be able to pull herself away from her new boyfriend in any case. Jack Pappas was a definite 'no'. He had just been a reason to mess with Grace and with Ricky, and while she would be the first person to admit that she was no angel, she couldn't stand his hypocritical bullshit.

Then there was Grace, the girl who could never say 'die', the optimist who never failed to mention the special connection she had with God and all things Christian, the all-around good person everyone couldn't help but adore and admire. She was everything that Adrian wasn't, and yet, she was the only person who had ever attempted to reach out to her, not like Ricky or Jack, not even out of revenge for the things Adrian had done to her, but as a friend, a _real _friend.

She had pressed 'Send' without hesitation, and barely gave Grace the chance to greet her before asking if she could come over. Less than twenty minutes later, here she was; sitting on the couch and drinking cherry-flavored ice tea with her _friend,_ Grace. Could things get any weirder?

"You think it was because of Ricky?" Grace's innocently voiced question jerked her roughly out of her thoughts, and Adrian choked on the ice tea she had just drunk. Grace reached over and thumped her back as the other girl sputtered. "Are you okay?" she asked in alarm as Adrian finished coughing. Adrian waved her off as she took another, smaller sip of her tea.

"There's no way she would dump Ben for Ricky," she wheezed, wiping her chin. Grace blinked before giving an indecisive little shrug. Adrian vehemently shook her head. "Not a chance. Even though she agreed to let Ricky get involved that doesn't mean she'd leave Ben at the chance that Ricky might want to get with her."

"Maybe so, but it still doesn't make sense," Grace replied, tapping her chin. "They went good together. Ben seems like a super sweet guy."

Adrian snorted. "Yeah, he's kind of _too _sweet. I'm not saying that they didn't go okay together, they did, but seriously. Proposing to her at fifteen after only dating her for a few weeks? I won't even hook up with a guy unless I've known him for a while." She ignored the uncomfortable look Grace shot her. That was still one hurdle they hadn't conquered yet.

"Okay, that may be true, but I really thought, with him being so accepting of the baby and everything, that she'd keep him around. Any guy who's willing to take care of someone else's baby is golden in my book," Grace stated firmly. Adrian sighed.

"Who knows? This situation keeps getting more and more complicated."

Grace gave her a compassionate smile. "I know, but it's good that you removed yourself from it, isn't it?"

Adrian let out a skeptical grunt. "Somehow, I don't think it's that easy."

"It could be. I like Ricky, too, but his problems aren't our problems."

Adrian raised her eyes to Grace's face, her expression dubious at best, and for a moment, she was almost jealous at the girl's complete naivety over something she really didn't grasp, not at all. "You see, that's where you're wrong," she remarked with a wry grin. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back into the sofa, brown eyes darkening with a sort of weariness Grace couldn't understand; a bitter emotion that she couldn't quite place. "Ricky's problems are _everybody's_ problems."


	4. Ambiguity

Just to warn everyone ahead of time, I have a very busy next few weeks, so I don't know when I'm going to post the next chapter. My update schedule is never very consistent, but I'll try not to make you guys wait too long. I hope this chapter can hold you off until then.

Happy reading!

**I own nothing of The Secret Life of the American Teenager except the plot and any unfamiliarity's that are woven into it. Additionally, any outside information gathered and used in this story is credited to its various creators. Everything else belongs solely to Brenda Hampton.**

* * *

"**One Step Forward"**

**--Chapter Four: Ambiguity--**

**By marissa-christina**

* * *

_Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap._

Amy peeked over the top of the magazine she had been reading and threw a sidelong glance towards the boy sitting a few chairs to her left--or to be more specific--towards his madly jiggling leg. "Can you stop?" she asked pointedly, painfully aware of the stares being inflicted upon her by the occupants around her.

Ricky's head snapped up from the lowered position he'd taken up, his face registering in surprise as he looked over at Amy. "What?" Amy rolled her eyes and made a dismissive gesture to his leg. Ricky blinked and glanced down before grinning a little sheepishly as he stopped the spastic movement. "Sorry." She grunted quietly and lifted the magazine again. Her mother came over carrying a clipboard, taking a seat beside her daughter before assessing the form she needed to fill out.

Over the next few minutes, the consistent scratching of a pen against paper as Anne scribbled down information on the application sheet was the only sound that permeated through the quiet that had settled over the waiting room. Ricky shifted in his chair, and out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the women staring at him, and she quickly turned away when he looked in her direction.

Ricky grimaced and kneaded his temples.

He'd been at home--_no_, he quickly corrected himself, _Margaret _and _Sanjay's_ home--in his bedroom, beating his drumsticks into the portable snare he owned while he ignored the stack of homework he knew was in his backpack when his cell phone went off in his pocket. Amy didn't bother making small talk. She was firm and to the point when she told him the time and place for her next doctor's appointment, along with the added extension that she didn't rightfully care if he showed up or not before she promptly hung up. He was at the clinic ten minutes early, and he hadn't missed the look of utter astonishment that flashed through Amy's eyes when she and her mother pulled up into the parking lot and found him leaning against his car, waiting for them.

Ever since Adrian had gotten all buddy-buddy with Grace and declared that she wanted nothing more to do with him, Ricky had a lot more time on his hands, and he had begun to realize how alone he really was without Adrian's company. He shook his head. Sometimes being a shameless flirt really, really sucked, hence the reason why he was currently in this messed up situation and sitting amongst various copies of_ Pregnancy _and _Parenting_.

Ricky cleared his throat as he took a moment to look around, raising his eyebrows at the bland blue walls, which clashed horribly with the faded red-colored chairs, whose cushioning smelled strongly of baby powder and old milk. In fact, the whole room smelled like a used diaper bag despite the efforts of numerous citrus-scented air fresheners. It was enough to make Ricky squirm in discomfort. He didn't think there could be anything more disconcerting…

"Amy Juergens?"

…except maybe that.

Amy's expression was akin to one who had just swallowed a lemon, while Anne plastered on an overly bright smile as she handed the clipboard to the brightly clothed nurse before motioning for her daughter to get out of her seat. Amy stood up, albeit reluctantly, and started to follow her mother. She paused and turned to gaze back at Ricky. He offered her a quick shrug of his shoulders. The nurse intercepted the look between them.

"Your boyfriend can come too, Amy. According to your chart, Dr. Sullivan is just doing an ultrasound for today," she remarked with a smile.

"He's not my--"

"I'm not her--"

They both cut each other off, and Amy leveled Ricky with an annoyed stare as he rose from his chair and sauntered over towards them. Anne didn't comment as they followed the nurse into a small hallway. Stopping in front of a door and opening it, the nurse ushered them into the room. She gestured for Amy to hop up onto the little table, but, to Ricky's relief, didn't tell her slip her feet into the stirrups that were attached at the foot of it. He sighed and planted himself in the far corner of the room, leaning back against the wall as Amy's mother took the only other available chair.

The nurse, who mentioned that her name was "Tina", made quick work of giving Amy a basic checkup, stopping every so often to write something down on the clipboard. She asked Amy and her mother a few questions regarding Amy's health before the pregnancy, whether or not she'd had any prenatal care thus far--her mother, after getting over the initial shock of Amy telling her that she was pregnant, had immediately set up an appointment for Amy to get blood work done--what vitamins she had been taking, whether or not she'd been having any pains. Her next question, though…

"Have you been sexually active?"

Ricky lifted his head up so quick that he smacked the back of it into the wall while Amy, red-faced, started stuttering. "N-no, n-not since…well, you k-know." Anne laid a soothing hand on her daughter's arm while Tina jotted her answer in. Ricky groaned quietly and rubbed his aching head, ignoring the exasperated look Amy shot at him.

"Okay, well, you look pretty good," Tina said as she gathered the various disposables and tossed them into the trash before sticking her hand out of the door to motion for something down the hall "Dr. Sullivan will give you a much better evaluation, though." Another nurse came in pushing a sonograph machine and a wheeled stool, which she placed beside Amy's table, offering them a smile before leaving the room, Tina following suit. She slipped the chart into the shelf on the door before closing it, leaving them alone. Thankfully, after enduring four long minutes, Dr. Sullivan, a plump woman with a kind-natured face wearing a typical white lab coat, entered the room with Amy's medical chart in hand.

"Hello, Amy. I'm Dr. Sullivan," she greeted warmly as she held out her free hand for Amy to shake. Amy managed a meek little smile as she numbly took it. The doctor smiled and turned to Anne. "Nice seeing you again, Anne." Anne smiled back in acknowledgement while Amy looked at them, confused. Ricky was left forgotten in his corner. "I was your mother's obstetrician while she was pregnant with you and Ashley," the doctor explained, catching Amy's expression. Turning to Anne, she chuckled softly. "Speaking of Ashley, how is she doing? She's what, thirteen, is it?"

Anne's smile widened. "Thirteen going on thirty-six is more like it," she grumbled good-naturedly, and Dr. Sullivan laughed.

"I can imagine. She was a loud little girl, straight from birth. Unlike this one--" she stopped and jerked her thumb at Amy. Anne looked at her daughter fondly as the doctor continued. "A right quiet one, you were, Amy. You gave us no trouble." Amy blushed. Dr. Sullivan cleared her throat and held up Amy's medical chart, switching gears. "Your blood work came back and everything looks good. No abnormalities and according to the tests, you should be…" she trailed off and took a quick glance at the chart. "…just reaching sixteen weeks." She smiled again and placed the chart on the table. "Perfect time to do an ultrasound to see where you're at."

Ricky remained silent, choosing to observe the scene rather than interact with the doctor, who had given him a few sidelong glances of her own. It was easy enough to determine who he was and why he was in the room, so he didn't feel the need to elaborate, and Dr. Sullivan didn't go out of her way to remark upon it as she took her time hooking up the sonograph machine.

When the machine whirred to life, she clapped her hands together and pulled up the stool. "Now, let's see what we have here, hmm? Can up pull up your shirt for me, Amy?"

Lying back, Amy did as she was told, tugging the loose tunic top up over her stomach. For reasons unknown to him, Ricky couldn't tear his eyes off of the slight, but noticeable bump that was beginning to form there. Seeing it made everything more real, didn't it, that there really _was_ going to be a baby, and he really _was_ going to be a father. Suddenly, the weight of the situation dawned on him and he had to quell the instinctive desire to run.

"All right, Amy," Dr. Sullivan started, oblivious to Ricky's mounting distress. She held up a container of cerulean-colored gel and popped the cap off before squeezing a bit onto Amy's stomach. Amy gasped and her abdominal muscles twitched at the contact, causing Dr. Sullivan to laugh. "I'm sorry. I forgot to mention that it might be a little cold." She unattached the transducer from the cart and pressed it against Amy's belly, smearing the gel around as she waited for the screen to transmit. For a few seconds, there was silence until a very faint sound started emitting from the machine.

Amy's eyes flared wide as the resounding thumping echoed throughout the small room, and turned her shocked gaze to her mother, who was watching the screen with an expression of bittersweet happiness. The doctor moved the transducer a few centimeters, and the thumping grew louder, stronger.

"Amy, look," her mother whispered gently. Amy slowly swiveled her head, and she stared in silent amazement as the monitor intermittently changed shapes, black and grey masses forming and shifting into something completely different with every movement Dr. Sullivan conducted with the probe.

"Here's the spine," she pointed out, running her finger over the screen, outlining a squiggly looking shape that curved forward in a continuous pattern, gray in color while a darker gray was emphasized by the empty space between each vertebra. Amy couldn't summon her voice to say anything; she just stared and stared.

Dr. Sullivan began pointing out other little details, including a head and round, tiny body, and even the faint, outlined profile. Amy listened and took everything in without really understanding what the woman was saying, unable to tear her eyes away from the monitor as she got her first look at this little enigma growing inside of her; her baby. She blinked, pulled from her stupor at the quietly indrawn breath to her right.

Ricky, too, was staring at the monitor, his wide, dark eyes standing out against the pallid color of his face as he slumped against the wall, just enough to lend him some extra support as the thumping noise resonated through his head, pounded itself into his mind, ensuring that, as long as he lived, he would never, _ever_ forget this moment, never forget that sound, as it reached its painful crescendo. He rubbed his temples with shaking fingers. Amy bit her lip, and looked away before he realized that she'd been staring.

"And there's the heart."

Amy's eyes were drawn back to the monitor, to where Dr. Sullivan's finger was pointing: a pulsating mass in the very center of the screen, and Amy watched as it beat in time with the steady sound they were hearing. She swallowed hard. "W-when will you be able to tell what it is?" she asked, her voice wavering. Dr. Sullivan's lips turned upwards into a compassionate smile that wrinkled the corners of her green eyes.

"Probably the next time I see you," she replied. She leaned over the cart, the transducer still on Amy's stomach, and the doctor shifted it again before pressing a button on the machine. She lifted the probe and cleaned the gel from it, grabbing some more paper towels as she proceeded to do the same for Amy. "You did great, Amy. Now, I'm going to write you a prescription for some prenatal vitamins and you can pick it up from Eileen at reception before you leave," she said as she scribbled something down on a little pad she had pulled out of her pocket as Amy adjusted her shirt. Dr. Sullivan tore the slip out of the pad and handed it to Anne before bending over the sonograph once more, fiddling with a few buttons. "Now, there's just one more thing…"

When she stood back up, she had another piece of paper in her hands and she held it out for Amy to take. The girl did so and turned it over, almost smiling at the image she saw there, her first sonogram. She nodded her thanks and made for the doorway while Anne, shouldering her purse, shook Dr. Sullivan's hand and murmured something Amy couldn't hear, but the doctor smiled and inclined her head. Anne turned to face her daughter and the two shared a look before exiting the room.

Chuckling to herself, Dr. Sullivan pushed her glasses back up her nose and leaned over the table to pick up her papers when she caught sight of the boy who had been standing in the corner in silence the entire time; the father, she knew. He didn't do anything other than stare back, and she could see the conflict warring in his dark eyes. "I don't think I got your name," she remarked quietly as he stepped out of the shadows, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders hunched in a defensive sort of way.

"Ricky." He sounded hoarse, and she watched as his eyes kept shooting quick glances at the monitor, at the image that was still frozen on the screen. Dr. Sullivan didn't miss the momentary flash of indecision cross over his eyes before a quiet sort of resignation glazed over them. She sighed and gave him a small smile as she turned back to the machine and less than a minute later, she handed him the piece of paper. He accepted it wordlessly. She squeezed his shoulder before rolling the sonograph out of the room, leaving him to his vices.

Ricky stared down at the picture for a long while, running the pads of his fingertips over the outlined contours of his child's image. It was a surreal moment, wasn't it? Taking in the visual evidence of the existence of _his child_…

Releasing a frustrated growl, he carefully folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket, pulling out his car keys as he did so. He walked out of the examination room, almost bumping into Amy as he made a break for the clinic's entrance. She grabbed his arm in passing, and he was forced to stop as she tugged on it. She let go as soon as he turned to face her, crossing her arms over her chest and looking everywhere except at him. "I'll call you about my next appointment. If you decide to come, that is," she hastily blurted as her mother finished speaking with the receptionist.

Ricky only nodded, wanting to say something, _anything_, but found he just couldn't. Amy nodded back and pushed passed him, ducking her head, her hair falling over her face, but not before Ricky caught the hesitant gratitude that flickered over her gaze. Anne followed her daughter, stopping only to incline her head at Ricky, smiling just the slightest as she opened the doors and continued out into the parking lot. Rather than appease him, he found that it only made him feel that much worse, and he waited until Amy and her mother got in their car and drove away before he dared head for his own car.

Collapsing in the driver's seat, he fell forward, resting his forehead against the steering wheel as he dug his hand into his pocket. Pulling out his cell phone, he hit speed dial and held it up to his ear.

She picked up on the second ring.

"_What do you want?" _

Steeling his resolve, he turned the ignition on and put the Honda in drive as he pulled out of the lot, heading south, following a path he knew all too well. "I need to come see you," he said simply, tiredly. Could she hear it? Could she understand it?

There was a long pause. _"I'll leave the door unlocked." _It was all in her voice, wasn't it? The same resignation he felt, the same need to be needed. She knew him better than anyone. She couldn't change, and neither could he and it was a burden they both had to bear. Old habits die hard.

"I'll be there."

Old habits never died, period.

Snapping the phone closed, he gunned the engine, the weight of what was in his pocket growing heavier and heavier by the second, by every breath he drew. He never dreamed it would be this hard…

Some things couldn't change, could they?

How did he ever think _he_ could be the one that did?


	5. Perspective

Sorry for the wait, but things are pretty busy around here at the moment. However, I'm going to try to write the next few chapters so my updates aren't so sporadic and I don't leave you guys waiting so long.

Happy reading!

**I own nothing of The Secret Life of the American Teenager except the plot and any unfamiliarity's that are woven into it. Additionally, any outside information gathered and used in this story is credited to its various creators. Everything else belongs solely to Brenda Hampton.**

* * *

"**One Step Forward"**

**--Chapter Five: Perspective--**

**By marissa-christina**

* * *

"She broke it off just like that?"

Burying his face into his pillow with a loud groan as he tried to ignore the incredulity in his friend's voice, Ben nodded. "Yeah. Just like that."

Henry grimaced and drew in a quick breath, the air hissing between his teeth as he crossed his arms over his chest. "That blows, man. Any idea what happened?"

Curling his fists into his pillowcase, Ben shot up and threw his pillow across his bed. Henry, startled, dropped his cell phone. "That's the thing; I have no idea what could have brought this on! One minute we're kissing, next she's saying we need a break. I don't get it." He trailed off and bowed his head. "Everything was going so perfect," he muttered sadly. Henry grasped Ben's shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"It's probably just the hormones, dude. Crazy outbursts and girls go hand-in-hand. Besides, she's _pregnant_. Mood swings are, like, a given." He tried to express as much optimism as he could, but Ben sighed heavily and shrugged his shoulders.

"No. She was serious. I know her; she wouldn't say something like that without meaning it."

Henry bit his lip and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his hoodie. "I don't know what to tell you, Ben. Maybe you guys _do_ need a break. I mean, the two of you got pretty serious pretty quick." He realized that this was probably the wrong thing to say when Ben's expression turned sour. He opened his mouth to take it back, but promptly closed it when the expression died away and was replaced with a look of delayed resignation.

"Maybe you're right," Ben replied, flopping back onto his bed. Folding his hands over his chest, the boy stared up at the ceiling. Henry frowned when his friend let out a self-deprecating laugh. "You know, the only reason I asked her out to begin with was because I wanted to sleep with her." Henry, remembering the vivid conversation, nodded but didn't comment. "See, the thing is I wasn't expecting to fall for her so fast. Did you ever feel like…I don't know…like your heart was going to beat out of your chest when you looked at a girl and realized you wanted something more?"

Henry raised his eyebrows. "Not really. I don't really believe in that whole love-at-first-sight junk."

Ben lifted his head to stare at him, his brow furrowing in bemusement. "You never felt it with Alice?"

Henry shrugged. "Dude, I've been with Alice so long that it's kind of like wearing a pair of old Converse. We're not like that. She punched me in the head in kindergarten and we started playing house the next day until we became official in third grade. We didn't admit to loving each other until the fourth grade when we got different teachers for the first time."

Ben snorted and shook his head. "That's not what I mean. I know I love Amy; the mature kind of love, like what my dad felt for my mom. I want that with Amy. I want to marry her."

"We're fifteen, Ben. Fifteen year olds don't get married, especially to other fifteen year olds, especially not to _pregnant_ fifteen year olds. I don't doubt that you love her, but a month isn't enough to make that big of a decision."

Shooting his friend a dark look, Ben clenched his teeth. "I wish everyone would stop saying that. I _know_ we're young, too young to get married, but she's too young to be pregnant, too. If the two of us getting married could make it easier on her, I'm willing to do it because I care about her."

Henry ran his fingers through his hair. "Sure, but did you ever think that just because you're fine with it, it doesn't mean that she is?"

Ben opened his mouth to bite back, but the trill of Henry's cell phone interrupted his upcoming tirade. Henry picked it up from the floor and checked the screen, sighing as he stood up from the chair. "Alice and her mom are here to pick me up." He headed for the door, but paused and looked over his shoulder. "Listen, Ben. I know how you feel about her, but give her some space for now. If she knows that her life is crazy at the moment, she might not want to drag you into it. Stuff will work itself out." A car horn honked from outside, and Henry smiled lightly in passing as he walked out of Ben's room.

Waiting long after the sounds of a car door being slammed shut and the crunch of gravel underneath tires came and went, Ben rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes and fell back against his comforter, trying desperately to put his raging thoughts in order.

In the nearly two months he had known her, Amy Juergens had managed to turn his world completely upside-down, and as much as he wanted to be angry, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. How could he? With the image of her smiling that nervous little smile of hers, the sparkle that lit up her eyes whenever she laughed, the way she pushed back her hair whenever she was worried about something plastered in the middle of his mind, there was no way Ben could stay angry. He was hurt and disappointed, but he could honestly admit that he could never hate someone as innocent as Amy.

When his mother died, a void opened up inside of him, leaving an empty, vast in the place in his heart she used to fill. Nothing made up for it.

It hadn't taken much effort for Amy to bring some life back into that barren little part of him, and he never realized just how much she meant to him until she walked away.

"…_I can't ask you to uproot your entire life because I made a mistake."_

He sighed as her voice wafted through his head. He felt horrible whenever he thought back on his true motives for asking her out. Sex had been such a big factor in that decision, but he couldn't help but already feel like sex was already causing so many problems, and he hadn't even had any yet. He also hadn't expected to fall for the girl who had been just a means to an end in the beginning.

Ever since he had mustered the nerve to hold her hand at the dance, he knew that something was different.

She was different.

"I really dug myself in deep," he muttered wryly.

"Just a little, huh?"

Letting out a surprised yelp, Ben twisted his head and glanced over at his door. "Can I come in?" his father asked.

Ben sat up and shrugged. "I guess so."

Leo Boykewich stepped through the threshold and lowered himself down onto his son's bed with a quiet grunt. Ben smiled a little. "You know, Ben, sitting up here feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to make things any better."

"I know. It's just hard."

Leo chuckled quietly, placidly. "I know it is. Being a teenager is hard work and it's got its problems. You're just meeting a few of them a little earlier than most do."

Ben sighed. "I want to be with her, but not if she doesn't want to be with me. I don't want her to have to fake it."

"Amy's got a smart head on her shoulders, Ben. She's having to grow up quick too, and we can't really sway any of her decisions. All we can do is accept them and move on. Just because she broke up with you doesn't mean you have to cut her out of your life and be bitter about it."

At that Ben vehemently shook his head. "I couldn't do that even if I tried." Leo smiled.

"I figured as much."

"I didn't care that she had sex with another guy, I didn't care that she got pregnant by said guy, I didn't care--_much_--that she was willing to let said guy into her life for the sake of the baby _and _I wanted to marry her. I love her, Dad and I miss her," he said quietly. Leo was silent for a moment, and Ben rubbed his temples.

"I wasn't going to say this, but I think I need to," Leo started tentatively, well aware that he was treading into dangerous territory. "You guys dated for a month or so, Ben. Now, I'm not questioning that you love her, but I am questioning on whether or not you said it because you felt that Amy would stick around with you if you did." Ben didn't say anything for a long while, and Leo almost cringed at the hurt that slowly crossed over his son's face. "I don't doubt that you care about her, Ben," he said gently. "I just don't want you to think that caring about her is going to replace what you lost with your mom."

Ben's response was long in coming, but when he did finally speak, he looked anywhere but at his father. "Somehow, it felt like that. Maybe I was moving faster than she was, but I felt something for her and for the first time since Mom died that I was happy, _really_ happy. I was just too blind to see that Amy wasn't feeling the same way." On some level, he had known, hadn't he? He had brushed off her lack of responses when they kissed as being nervousness on her part, ignored the uncomfortable looks she got whenever he said the three words he knew felt right yet wrong at the same time. Too caught up in his own excitement at finally acquiring the perfect girl, Ben had gone against everything a good boyfriend was supposed to be and in the end Amy had to set him straight. He knew that now. It didn't make it any easier to swallow.

"You're a deep kid, son. You feel things most guys your age don't. Just because one girl has issues of her own to figure out doesn't mean that you can't think about what you want to do with your life. If you really love Amy, then wait for her to make the first move. If all she wants is your friendship, see how you feel about it and let her know. Feelings come and go, Ben, but if it's meant to be then it'll happen."

Ben bit his lip. "When did you know that you loved Mom?"

Leo paused and gave his son a small smile, sad and poignant. "I think it was when she ordered a double-decker burger on our fourth date."

Ben laughed quietly and shook his head. "And that's when you decided that she was your Sausage Queen?"

"Nah, I waited until she finished it first. I wanted to see if it was just for show or if that she really could eat it." Leo chuckled at the memory of it, her lips covered in ketchup and mayonnaise and her eyes closed in absolute bliss and he had thought she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "She ate the whole damn thing, including fries and a fudge sundae."

Ben managed to grin, remembering his mother's love for food. She had been one of those women who could eat anything and never gain a pound and on top of that, she was a great cook. "When I first saw how much Amy loved to eat, I thought I had finally found my perfect match. Granted, she was my _only_ match, but then again, Mom was for you, wasn't she?"

"Yeah, she was. But there's the difference, Ben. Your mom and I…we were friends way before we ever considered dating. We knew each other by then. You and Amy haven't had that time to just be pals. Maybe that would make the difference in deciding where your relationship could go." Leo got to his feet. "Give yourself some time, son. You can't get a decent burger patty unless you let the meat cook for a while and absorb the flavoring you put into it. Be the raw meat, let Amy be the grill, and let Fate be the spatula. Sooner or later you'll get flipped and then you'll see what the damage is and what you should do next."

Ben stared at his father for a long moment. "That was the weirdest meat analogy I've ever heard you use," he said at long-last. "And the scary thing is…it actually made sense." Leo grinned broadly.

"Maybe, but you understand the fatherly knowledge I'm trying to bestow unto you, right?"

Nodding thoughtfully, Ben smiled back. "Yeah, I do. Thanks, Dad."

"Hey, that's what I'm here for." He turned away and headed downstairs.

Ben watched him go before flopping back onto his bed, his eyebrows furrowing deep as he sank back into his thoughts.

'_If being her friend means that I won't lose her in my life, I guess that's a choice I'm willing to make…'_

He was fifteen years old.

And he was finally realizing it.

'_Friends is good.'_


	6. Thoughtful

Firstly, let me say that I hope everyone had a good holiday. Secondly, I'm sorry that's it's taken me so long to get back to this, but I've been incredibly busy with school and the likes. Additionally, with the show having been on hiatus, coming up with some new ideas that still coincide with the original storyline has been difficult, but I figured that it wasn't fair of me to leave you guys hanging.

Happy reading!

**I own nothing of The Secret Life of the American Teenager except the plot and any unfamiliarity's that are woven into it. Additionally, any outside information gathered and used in this story is credited to its various creators. Everything else belongs solely to Brenda Hampton.**

* * *

"**One Step Forward"**

**--Chapter Six: Thoughtful--**

**By marissa-christina**

* * *

"I'm not going back."

Sighing softly as she lowered her book to her lap, Anne lifted her head glance over at her daughter. Amy leaned against the entryway, arms crossed over her chest, eyes lighting in stubborn determination as she stared back. Anne rubbed her forehead. "Honey, we've had this discussion already. I'm not going to let you leave school."

Amy pushed herself from the entryway and went to sit beside her mother. "Who said anything about leaving school?" she replied. Anne raised an eyebrow, not exactly sure where the conversation was going.

"Then what are you talking abo-?" she started to ask, but Amy shook her head.

"What I meant was that I'm not going back to Grant," she explained. She suddenly chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I've been thinking about it lately: about what would be good for me and for this baby and I've decided to go to that alternative extension school for independent women."

Anne attempted to remain blank-faced, but she couldn't help the upwards twitch of her lips. "Are you sure about this, Amy?" she asked objectively. "You don't have to. You know I support your decision to stay at Grant if that's what you want." Amy nodded and leaned back in her chair with a sigh, her hands unconsciously coming up to rest over her belly.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I've given it a lot of thought, Mom. School is just too crazy now, and I'd much rather go somewhere where nobody knows about me and the things I've done. I really think time away from the gossip and rumors would be good for me. Not to mention you guys, too," she added, shooting her mother a guilty glance. "I haven't been dealing with stuff like I should be, and I want to at least try to make some of this right. And if that means signing up to go to slut school, then I'll do it."

Anne frowned. "Don't call it 'slut school', Amy." She paused and shook her head in disgust. "That goes for your father, too."

Amy waved her hand dismissively. "Fine, fine, whatever." She exhaled loudly and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Call it what you want, but I really think I should go there. Things at Grant are getting too complicated, and I think it would be best for me to leave. At least until after the baby is born."

Anne eyed her daughter critically. "Are you absolutely sure about this, Amy? You're certain that you won't change your mind again?"

Amy clasped her hands together atop the kitchen table, resting her weight on her elbows as she hunched forward. "This baby is going to be born in five months and I have no clue what I'm doing, Mom. If this school thing can help me, I need to do it."

Her mother didn't say anything as she silently processed all the facts that Amy had laid out. Amy watched impassively, not entirely pleased with her decision to transfer schools, but resigned to the notion that it _really_ would be the best thing for everyone. She only hoped her mother could understand that, too.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Anne sighed softly and lifted her head. Amy was relieved to see a cautious smile gracing her mother's lips. "Okay, sweetie, I can see your point. There're still a few things I think we should discuss as a family, though. I want to get some more information about the school, and we'll have to find out how we're going to get you there."

"I already thought of that," Amy added carefully. Anne looked confused.

"What do you mean?"

Amy reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She smoothed out the creases and slid it over the table towards her mother. "Ashley and I have been doing a little research on alternative public schools, and I've been seeing Mr. Molina about it during my study halls. He managed to find one that's closer to home."

Anne scanned the paper. It had an address written on it, as well as a contact number. "'Rosewood Public School'?" she asked, glancing up at Amy. Amy nodded.

"Mr. Molina said it was only about a twenty-five minute drive from here and that it's a really good place. I can keep taking the classes I do now and I'll still get the credits I need to pass. They have a daycare facility and classes on childcare, too." She snapped her fingers. "He gave me a pamphlet for it." Amy pushed back her chair and stood up, groaning softly as she did. Rubbing her lower back, she hurried out of the kitchen and headed for the stairs. Throwing open the door to her room, she grabbed her backpack from her bed and dug through it, moving aside her binders and papers and music sheets. Finding the pamphlet, she tugged it out and tossed the bag aside. "Here," she said as she re-entered the kitchen, holding out the pamphlet to her mother. Anne took it, raising an eyebrow at the crumpled state of the brochure. Amy shrugged as she sat back down.

Anne took a few minutes to read it over. "It looks like a good place, Amy," she said at last, re-folding the pamphlet. "The classes are small, so you'll have extra help."

"I know. I really like it, Mom."

Anne smiled again, and reached over to grasp Amy's hand. "I'm proud of you, honey," she said, emphasizing her point by giving Amy's hand a gentle squeeze. "I'll talk it over with your father, and then we can see what we have to do to set you up."

Amy grinned. "Thanks, Mom."

Anne shook her head. "Don't thank me. You're the one who looked into this. You're showing me that you can be responsible." Anne's smiled widened, and her eyes took on a misty sheen. "That's the best thing you could ever give me, Amy."

* * *

It was the typical morning scene in Grant's hallways: students gathered in their circle of friends, waiting for the first period bell to ring, and yet there was still enough time for girls to start giggling with one another at a designated locker that had a perfect view of the groups of jocks stationed only a few lockers down.

And as Amy slid through the entrance doors, conversation immediately stilled and hundreds of eyes were suddenly fixated on her. She swallowed hard, the familiar tightening in her chest flaring up as she ducked her head in an effort to make herself appear smaller.

Like every other morning, as she shuffled past those giggling girls—those _gossiping_ girls—Amy realized that the effort was utterly wasted. She felt their eyes burning holes into her back and she crossed her arms over her chest and quickened her step.

"_She's getting huge…"_

"_I heard she's going to sell it…"_

"_Can't believe she actually _slept_ with_ Ricky Underwood_…"_

"_What a slut…"_

Biting her lip against the scathing remarks, Amy avoided going to her locker altogether, choosing instead to duck into her first period classroom. Her teacher raised her head and her lips twitched into a semblance of a smile, but Amy couldn't reciprocate the weak gesture. She took her seat in the back of the class, silently counting the minutes until her day would be over.

The bell rang and moments later her classmates filed in. Even with her head bowed she could feel their stares, and she urged the clock to go faster, especially with this particular class.

"Okay, class," her Health teacher, Ms. Hoff, said as she rounded her desk. She had her heavy teacher's textbook in her hands. "We're going to start with a new unit today, so I want everyone to take out their notebooks and textbooks and turn to page two forty-five."

The room broke out into sounds of bags being un-zippered and books making resonating noises as they were unceremoniously dropped onto desks. Amy brushes her hair aside and flipped her book open. A harsh breath whistled through her teeth as she stared in wide-eyed dread at the chapter that gleamed back up at her in bold, yellow print.

"_Reproduction: The Ins and Outs of Pregnancy." _

Ms. Hoff cleared her throat and started up the projector. "Devin, can you get the lights?" she asked, pointing to a blond boy in the front row that Amy knew played on the freshmen football team. Once the room darkened, Ms. Hoff found her power-point presentation and clicked the file. "We're going to start the reproduction unit today and should finish with it by the end of the week."

Amy readied her pen, grimacing as a few heads turned to glance her way.

"Today you're going to take some notes. We'll have a discussion afterwards."

Withholding a groan, Amy hastily scribbled down the facts in her notebook, trying to look up as little as possible as Ms. Hoff made some brief commentary regarding the subject. However awkward it was, Amy knew that her teacher wouldn't make any snide remarks towards her, but the threat of being called out on her condition was ever-present, and the longer she thought about it, the harder it became for her to concentrate.

"Pregnancy is one-hundred percent preventable," Ms. Hoff said, and Amy felt the barb dig deeper. "Anybody know how that is?"

"By using a condom," cheerleader Stacy Conway piped in smugly. Ms. Hoff shook her head.

"No, actually. Despite claims, condoms are not always effective and can break. Broken condoms can lead to pregnancy."

"What about doubling up on them?" another boy questioned.

"That's definitely not something you should do. Using more than one condom at a time can increase the risk of one or both condoms breaking. No, the only way to reduce the risk of getting pregnant is by not engaging in intercourse at all," Ms. Hoff informed, and Amy felt like there was a spotlight trained in on her.

Desperately, she looked to the clock. There were still twenty-five minutes left to go. As Ms. Hoff laid more information out for the students to copy, Amy knew that if she didn't leave soon, she would likely have a panic attack and the last thing she needed was for another rumor to get out about her.

Taking a deep breath, she raised her hand. "Ms. Hoff, can I go to the nurse?" she asked, ignoring the numbers of heads that turned to look at her. Ms. Hoff nodded and gave her another tight smile, looking not at all surprised that things had turned out this way. Amy gathered her stuff and carefully walked down the aisle and took the pass that Ms. Hoff handed to her before heading for the door. However, she paused and dared to gaze back at the class. She was startled to see them all giving her the same courtesy. Some of them sniggered and whispered to one another before leveling their eyes on her again.

Feeling the tightening in her chest worsen, Amy opened the door and rushed out into the hallway. The nurse's office was down near the newer wing of the building, but Amy bypassed that hallway and broke for the bathroom. She all but threw her bag into one of the stalls as she lurched over the sink and tried to gain control of her rapid breathing. She watched the mirror, saw the reflection of a thin girl with a rounded belly and trembling shoulders stare back with wide, frightened hazel eyes that bespoke of her absolute vulnerability.

"How am I going to do this?" she whispered morosely, covering her stomach with her hand. Gently flexing her fingers, she bowed her head and spoke directly to her bump. "How am I going to take care of you?"

Wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, Amy released a shuddering breath. "Get a grip," she muttered as she reached down to grab her bag. Hefting it onto her shoulder, she took one last look at the smudged mirror before walking out of the bathroom.

* * *

It was customary for him to skip out every once in a while, and for some odd reason, Ricky found himself wanting to do just that.

And as he tossed his nurse's note in the hallway trash can, he mapped out in his head just where he'd spend the rest of his day. He was so engrossed with the thought of driving out to the park to grab a bite to eat that he missed the other figure coming around the corner of another hallway.

The small body he happened to have collided with let out a startled yelp and grabbed his arms, just as he reflexively held out his hands to grab hold of the other. His drumsticks fell out of his back pocket and clattered to the floor, and a bag slipped from its holder's arm to spill out the contents besides them.

"Oh, man. Sorry," he said, crouching down to retrieve his fallen drumsticks.

"No, i-it was m-my fault," the other person replied, the stuttering tone immediately striking Ricky as being incredibly familiar. Raising his head, he met Amy's anxious gaze with a lazy smile. Her features betrayed her surprise, but it only took her a moment to recover her bearings as she shoved her belongings back into her bag and awkwardly stood up.

"Hmm, long time no see," he said, smiling a little as he held out one of her notebooks. She snatched it from his hands and hugged it to her chest.

"Sure. Sorry for bumping into you," she mumbled, pushing past his shoulder to head down the way he'd just come. Ricky watched her retreating back and didn't even hesitate to stop himself from calling out her name. She stopped and turned to face him, her eyes flashing in her irritability.

Not really even stopping to think about what he was saying, Ricky shrugged and dug his hands into his pockets. "Want a ride?"

Amy blinked and furrowed her eyebrows before her lips pursed together in a thin line. "What?" she snapped.

He shrugged again. "You look like you're in a hurry to leave. I'm skipping out. Do you want a ride somewhere?"

She hesitated, and Ricky could see her inner turmoil: she wanted to leave, that much was obvious. She just didn't want to leave with _him_. And anyway…Amy Juergens, skip school? Not likely.

He almost revoked his offer, but she surprised him again. "Yeah," she said cautiously, sounding uncertain. Ricky looked doubtful.

Steeling her resolve, Amy nodded. "Yeah."

Ricky smirked. He knew _where_ he wanted to spend the rest of his day.

And maybe…maybe he'd just found _who_ he'd spend it with.


	7. Common Ground

It's mind-boggling how popular this story is becoming! I'm incredibly pleased and humbled by everyone who has reviewed and for everyone who has been reading my little brainchild. It's so nice to know that even though I've strayed from the storyline, you all still enjoy reading it. And just as a side note, I _will_ be going in a totally different direction with this. I love the show, but I like to think that what I write is what everyone subconsciously wishes would happen.

Happy reading!

**I own nothing of The Secret Life of the American Teenager except the plot and any unfamiliarity's that are woven into it. Additionally, any outside information gathered and used in this story is credited to its various creators. Everything else belongs solely to Brenda Hampton.**

* * *

"**One Step Forward"**

**--Chapter Seven: Common Ground--**

**By marissa-christina**

* * *

Ricky rubbed his palm over his forehead with a quiet groan that transitioned into a small sigh of relief as the loud ringing in his ears ceased and was replaced by a dull throbbing that he could ignore if he concentrated hard enough. "You know, you're pretty strong for such a skinny girl," he remarked as he leaned back into the booth's tarnished russet seat. Amy winced.

"I really didn't mean to swing the door that hard," she muttered apologetically as she eyed the beginnings of a bruise darkening the spot where he had been struck with the door. Ricky watched as her cheeks reddened and she began to swirl her straw around her glass of orange juice. "And I'm not skinny anymore," she added under her breath.

Ricky hid his smirk behind a well placed cough. "It's not a big deal. I guess it's a good thing that there's more to you than meets the eye. It gives my kid a fighting chance."

She stiffened at that, and Ricky saw her fingers clench underneath the table. "Sure," she added acidly. "Wouldn't want to have a wimpy baby now, huh?"

He frowned and took a sip of his Coke. "I was kidding, Amy. You don't have to get all defensive." She scoffed and then proceeded to ignore him. Ricky sighed.

After running into one another—literally—in the hallway at school, Ricky and Amy had snuck out of Grant through a back entrance that was rarely used, straight into the parking lot towards Ricky's Honda. They hadn't exchanged words throughout the whole escape, but once they hit a stretch of open road, Amy had relaxed enough to hint that she wanted food. Other than asking if the local diner was all right, the two were silent during the drive. That was until Amy had gotten out of the car and headed for the diner, opening the door with more force than he could credit her for and stalking inside. He was close behind her, but the doors were heavier than they looked and once she had let go it slammed back into place and, unfortunately for Ricky, had chosen to do so just as he was walking through the entrance.

An uncomfortable silence fell over them as they waited to order, and Amy squirmed in her seat as the baby decided at that moment to roll over onto her bladder. She grimaced and stood up. "If she shows up while I'm gone can you just order me the spinach and cheese omelet with wheat toast?" she asked, grabbing her purse. He nodded as she hurried towards the back of the diner and once she was out of sight he slumped back against the booth.

Rubbing his hands over his face with a muffled grunt, Ricky didn't notice anyone coming to his table until he caught a strong whiff of perfume and heard the smacking sound of chewing gum. He tilted his head back and looked up.

"You ready to order, honey?" asked the waitress with a smile. She looked to be in her early-twenties with choppy red hair, relatively short stature and a little thick around the waist and hips, but Ricky figured that her face was nice enough. He returned the smile.

"Yeah," he said, flipping open his menu and giving it a quick scan. "I'll get the Belgium waffle supreme breakfast with a side of bacon." She wrote it down on her pad, and took a glance towards Amy's empty seat.

"And for her?" she inquired.

"Uh…the spinach and cheese omelet with wheat toast, I think."

The waitress scribbled the order down and flashed him a grin. "All right, then. They should be out shortly. My name's Maggie in case you need anything."

"I'll keep that in mind…_Maggie_." Ricky raised his eyebrows and smirked. Maggie blinked and giggled a little nervously as she tucked a wayward piece of flaming hair behind one ear.

"I'm going to…go…that way. Yeah," Maggie stuttered as she hurried off, but not before giving him one last glance over her shoulder before she disappeared behind the swinging kitchen doors. Ricky watched her, feeling a little smug as he took a long sip of his Coke.

"Already womanizing this early in the morning?"

He looked over the rim of his cup and saw Amy approach the table, her face pinched into a semblance of a scowl. She was hugging her purse to her chest, and for the first time Ricky noticed just how self-conscious she was of her stomach. His perusal must have been obvious, however, because Amy hastily lowered herself down into the booth and slouched in her seat, worriedly looking around to see if any of the other patrons had noticed her. Ricky rolled his eyes.

"Stop freaking out so much," he grumbled, leaning his elbows onto the table. "It just makes it that much more obvious."

Amy narrowed her eyes and leveled him with a steely glare. "That's really easy for you to say. It's not like you're the one flashing a big neon sign with an arrow pointing at your balloon of a stomach saying 'hey, I'm a whore, look here for prize!'," she near-growled, draining half of her orange juice. Ricky shrugged.

"You didn't have to come with me, you know."

She groaned and buried her fingers in her hair. "I know that. Trust me; I'm still trying to reason through it."

He chuckled arrogantly. "Come on, Amy. Don't kid yourself. It's okay if you just couldn't resist me. I understand."

She snorted and opened her mouth to make a scathing retort, but the teasing grin he was wearing gave her pause. She never really noticed that he had dimples before…

A sudden wash of wistfulness shot through her, and Amy found herself freely asking the questions that she tried so hard to hold at bay. Would her baby have his dimples? Would it have her hair color? Would it look more like Ricky or more like her? And if she was truly honest with herself, she knew that she secretly hoped that the baby would inherit his eyes: those deep, smoldering pools of dark chocolate that flashed with the volatile, complicated fire that Ricky Underwood was made of; the eyes that first drew her to him; the eyes that gave her the initiative to ask him out for coffee that afternoon at band camp.

The eyes that stared down at her, twinkling in that satisfied way, during the one night that changed absolutely everything.

"You might want to close the trap, Amy. Bugs are starting to go in. I don't want my kid to end up like that dude in 'The Fly'," Ricky said dryly, startling Amy out of her reverie. She recovered quickly enough and crossed her arms over her chest.

"You're kind of a jerk," she stated, ducking her head to cover her rising blush. Ricky laughed outright.

"And here I thought you already knew that. I'm disappointed."

Amy rolled her eyes. "A _huge_ jerk," she corrected. He laughed again. Anything he planned to say was cut off by Maggie's return, her arms laden with a large tray. Amy watched the other woman carefully—expertly, even—maneuver the tray around her forearm before setting Amy's plate onto the table. She repeated the motion with Ricky's meal, shooting him a broad smile.

"There you go," she said sweetly, straightening her back. She turned to look at Amy, and Amy watched as her smile slowly faded, leaving behind an incredulous expression that was immediately schooled into another smile, this one entirely too bright, too forced. Amy slouched a little more in her seat as she nodded her thanks and grasped her fork. She could feel Maggie's eyes drilling holes into her person as she meticulously picked at her omelet. Maggie cleared her throat. "If there's anything else I can get you, just flag me down."

"Sure. Thanks," Ricky said as Maggie turned heel and walked away without another word. He twisted his head to look back to Amy. "That looks…healthy," he said, nodding to her plate. Amy shrugged. He stared at her for another moment before turning his attention back to his meal.

After a few minutes of nibbling on her toast, Amy dropped her fork and gave up trying to finish eating, her appetite all but gone. Ricky glanced up. "What's up?" he said through a mouthful of whipped cream and syrup. Amy wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"I'm just not hungry," she said tightly, delicately pushing her plate away. Ricky rolled his eyes and swallowed before he spoke.

"Listen, why'd you bother coming with me if you're just going to be a bitch?" he said, his eyes flashing in his annoyance. Amy sucked in a harsh breath, looking hurt at the implication.

"Because I needed to get out of there, okay?" she replied bitingly after she recovered. "I needed to get away from everyone's stares." She scowled and waved her hand dismissively. "Not that you would know anything about it," she added as an afterthought.

Ricky grimaced and crossed his arms, his own plate forgotten. "Yeah, right, like I don't get stared at. I only helped put that kid in there."

Amy barked out a disbelieving laugh, catching the attention of the other patrons. A few swiveled their heads to stare at them. Amy ignored it. "Maybe and maybe everyone does mention your name. But, the thing is, they mention _my_ name more." He was quiet for a few seconds.

"You know what? I really don't feel like getting into it with you here," he said after a long pause. "My waffle's getting cold." He picked up his fork and resumed eating.

Watching him as the incredulity rose up within her, Amy grabbed her bag and stood before stomping out the diner door.

* * *

Ricky found her sitting outside on a bench a little ways from the diner parking lot nearly twenty minutes later. "You know, it's not proper courtesy to leave a guy to eat alone," he said as he walked up to her. She 'hmphed' and twisted away from him. He rolled his eyes and held out a plastic bag. She spared him a brief, questioning glance out of the corner of her eye. "You didn't really eat anything," he explained. He held the bag out again. "I got it wrapped."

She hesitantly, yet begrudgingly took it from him. He shoved his hands into his pockets.

"C'mon," he said, pulling out his car keys.

She silently followed him to the car and barely acknowledged him as he unlocked her door and moved aside so she could get situated. After a few seconds of shifting around to get comfortable, Amy fastened her seatbelt and crossed her arms over her stomach. Buckling his own seatbelt, Ricky turned on the ignition and pulled out of the parking spot and onto the street. "You know," he started, staring at the glowing numbers on his stereo as they came to a red light. "It's only ten-thirty. You sure you want to go home now?"

Amy sighed. "Honestly, no. My mom will freak out if I tell her I skipped out…with _you _of all people." Ricky barely batted an eye at the barb, but Amy noticed the way his hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.

"Okay. It's obvious that you don't want to spend anymore time with me, so is there somewhere I can drop you off?"

Amy bit her lip and ran her fingers through her hair before turning to face him. "Listen, I'll admit that you're not my favorite person. In fact, I can say that I don't think I've ever not liked someone more than I do you. But, the bottom line is that this is your baby and I need to accept that little fact without acting like a complete brat. So, I'm willing to put aside my extreme dislike for you for the sake of this child. With that said, I really think we should just try to talk, _civilly_, about what we're going to do next."

Ricky didn't say anything, and Amy thought that she had overstepped her boundaries. Groaning quietly, she kneaded her temples in frustration.

"So…is that a 'no' for being dropped off somewhere?" he finally asked, shooting her a little grin that drew her attention to his dimples.

Amy rolled her eyes. "Just drive."


	8. Silence

Again, thanks so much for all of you're lovely feedback. With every review I get it brightens my day a little more and as always, I'm incredibly grateful. On another nice note, lately I've been in the writing mood, so this chapter was able to be added much quicker than normal, so I hope you enjoy it. I'm trying to keep everyone in character the best I can, as well as maybe upping the maturity level in certain places (Amy and Ricky mostly), but if I happen to trail off please let me know. And on one more note, I can say that I enjoyed the season finale, but not as much as I thought I would. However, seeing Ricky with that baby did get some squealing out of me. Those few scenes gave me something to work with for when this story eventually gets around to that kind of stuff.

Happy reading!

**I own nothing of The Secret Life of the American Teenager except the plot and any unfamiliarity's that are woven into it. Additionally, any outside information gathered and used in this story is credited to its various creators. Everything else belongs solely to Brenda Hampton.**

* * *

"**One Step Forward"**

**--Chapter Eight: Silence--**

**By marissa-christina**

* * *

"Did you ever hear that song?"

Alice blinked and looked up from her math homework, raising her eyebrows at Henry as the boy took a large bite of his sandwich. "What song?"

He grunted and waved his hand, still clutching the sandwich, around his head, searching for the words. "That song from that German commercial."

Alice rolled her eyes and twirled her pencil in a continuing motion. "What song from what German commercial?"

Henry sighed and swallowed the last of his sub and downed it with a long sip of his Gatorade. "It was on YouTube. It had that rabbit." He snapped his fingers as he tried to think of the name. Alice groaned and rubbed her forehead.

"Henry?" she asked. He held up a finger as he continued to run names through his mind. She tried again. "Henry."

"Hold on a minute, I'm trying to think…"

Alice smacked his shoulder. "Why are you asking me about the 'Snuggle Song' from Schnuffel Bunny?"

"Schnuffel Bunny!" he exclaimed, grinning broadly. "I was going to say something different."

She rolled her eyes again and pressed the tips of her fingers together. "I'll ask again. What in the world made you come up with that song?"

He shrugged and ripped open his bag of chips. "I don't know. I watched it last night. Screwy little song, isn't it?"

Alice groaned again and stared at him in exasperation. "Why would you watch it in the first place?" she demanded. "I mean, seriously, who does that? I'll tell you who: juveniles! Not high school students."

Henry snorted and popped a chip into his mouth. "Well, the real question should be…" he mumbled as a wicked little smile that Alice didn't like playing at the corners of his lips. "If it's such a juvenile thing to do, why did you know the name of it?"

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips together in a tight line, but said nothing as she resumed her math homework. Henry chuckled as he watched her nearly stab her pencil through the paper as she tackled a problem while spitting out insults from between her teeth. He munched on another chip and turned his head to look at his other companion who, surprisingly, had remained completely silent throughout the entire conversation. Henry cocked his head and nudged him with his shoulder. "Hey. You've been pretty quiet. What's up?"

Ben sighed and took a despondent bite of his apple. "Ah, nothing," he replied quietly. Henry noticed the way his friend kept glancing around, almost as if he were looking for someone in the midst of their bustling cafeteria. Looking across the room, it didn't take Henry very long to guess the problem by the marked absence of Grant's number one teenage mother-to-be. His staring caught the attention of Lauren, who must have seen the questioning way he was looking at her, Madison, and Amy's regular table, and Amy's empty seat. She shrugged apologetically. Henry nodded and turned back to Ben. "She's not here, huh?"

Ben cleared his throat and lightly tossed his apple core on his lunch tray. "I saw her earlier this morning," he murmured. "I heard someone mention how she ran out during Health first period." He conveniently left out the bits of the conversation he had caught that were much more derogatory towards Amy's situation, and he felt a rush of anger towards those girls for even saying such things. "I checked the nurse's office, but she never saw Amy today."

Alice, having finished maiming her assignment, piped in. "Maybe she called her mom," she offered, zippering up her backpack. "I can't say I'd blame her if she did. We started the Reproduction unit today. I can only imagine how she'd feel, sitting there listening to that." Henry cringed sympathetically.

"That really sucks," he muttered. He liked Amy, regardless of the choices she had made in terms of Ben, and he, like Alice, could only imagine the mortification she must have felt, inadvertently serving as the prime example of that particular lesson. "No wonder she bailed."

Ben grimaced. "I kind of figured that," he said with a scowl. "That's not what worries me."

Henry and Alice exchanged confused looks. "What, then?" Alice asked. Ben ran his fingers through his short hair and sighed.

"Did you happen to notice who else is missing?" he said, his dark eyes troubled. Alice furrowed her brow and glanced around. Henry followed suit. The two turned their heads every which way, scanning the cafeteria for said missing person. Alice's eyes moved past the cheerleading table where Grace Bowman was head, the jock table that was currently being animatedly entertained by one Jack Pappas, the band geeks, the socially inept, the majorettes and Adrian Lee…basically all the big names that ruled the hallways…all except for…

Alice and Henry's eyes widened simultaneously, and Ben's face contorted in discomfiture before he ducked his head. "I thought so."

* * *

"Yeah, Mom, I'm going to stay after for band," Amy said, holding her cellphone closer to her ear. Anne sighed on the other line.

"_Okay. Do you need a ride home?"_

"No, that's okay. It's nice out and I could use the walk."

"_Are you sure? I can come over when you're done…"_

Amy chuckled quietly. "I'll be fine, Mom. And anyway, Dr. Sullivan said it was good for me to exercise." Her mother sighed again.

"_I know, I know. Speaking of Dr. Sullivan, you have another appointment for Thursday." _

Taking a deep breath, Amy tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. "Okay. Do you think we'll find out what it is this time?" she asked, unable to keep the tremor out of her voice.

"_I'm not sure, but it's a possibility. Do you _want_ to know?"_

"I don't know, Mom," she admitted, crossing her free arm over her abdomen. "Listen, I got to get going. Mr. Sedlack is expecting me in a few minutes for a lesson and I don't want to be late."

"_Okay. Call me if you need me." _

"All right, Mom. Bye," she said before flipping her phone closed. She pressed it against her forehead for a few seconds as she sighed. She heard the sound of footsteps stop behind her and she didn't bother to open her eyes before speaking. "We should get back soon."

Ricky zippered his jacket and shoved his hands into the front pockets. "I know, but I still want to hear about this school thing." He stopped himself and rephrased. "If you'll tell me, that is."

Amy shrugged as he led them along an open walkway that curved around the perimeter of the park. "I think it'd just be easier for everyone if I enrolled at Rosewood for the time-being. At least until the baby is born."

He stared straight ahead, but his words were directed to her. "What are you going to do with the baby?" he asked abruptly. Startled, Amy's head shot up and she whirled around to look at him. He kept his gaze trained in front of him, but she saw the tightening in his jaw.

Struggling to find an explanation, Amy hugged her coat a little closer and she looked up into the trees, the sky, for a justifiable response. Hadn't she asked herself the very same question everyday for the past five months? Hadn't she hated herself, and Ricky, just a little more every time she dwelled on the only available, the only_ logical,_ answer she had?

Biting her bottom lip, she gently probed her stomach. "I think…I think the best thing to do for this baby is give it up for adoption," she said at last. She cringed, hating how weak she sounded. Ricky clenched his jaw tighter, so tight that Amy heard the click of his teeth grind together.

"Yeah, somehow I knew you'd say that," he stated, and for the first time all day he looked at her with no trace of emotion on his face. "But I was hoping that you'd prove me wrong." His scoffed. "Guess not." His disappointment was a palpable thing. Amy bristled, suddenly forced onto the defensive.

"You know what? Screw civility," she growled, planting herself in front of him. He glared down at her. Amy scowled and clenched her fists. Whether it was just a spike of uncontrollable anger mixed in with raging hormones, Ricky didn't know, but when Amy snapped her head up, he saw the fury in her eyes. "You listen to me," she said in a low voice. "I don't care that you've been decent to me as of late, or the fact that you're finally taking interest in this child after brushing me—_us_—off, but this is where I'm drawing the line." She reached out and poked his shoulder. "The decisions I make in regards to this baby's life are _my_ decisions, and we will do this _my_ way and if adoption is the route I want to take, you _will_ agree."

Ricky frowned, the anger swelling up in him, too. "And if I don't?" he shot back. Amy narrowed her eyes further.

"I really won't care," she replied simply. "Let's face it, Ricky. No matter what we try to do, at the end of the day I'm still going to be a fifteen year old girl and you're still going to be a sixteen year old boy. We're minors under law, not even halfway through high school _and_ unemployed. We can't take care of this child." She shocked herself at the finality in her voice. "I'm not going to kid myself into thinking that we'd even be capable of doing it."

"Why not?" he countered heatedly. "Why couldn't we? How can you even think about giving the baby away to some strangers?" Had he been thinking clearly, Ricky might have been able to see Amy's logic. He might have even agreed to it.

But he wasn't thinking clearly. He wasn't thinking very much at all. No, he was simply _reacting_, letting his emotions speak for him for the first time in months. The only thing that was in his ability to focus was that fuzzy, dark, crinkled little picture he had taped to his wall at home.

Amy raked her fingers through her hair. "Because it's what's best for it! Giving it away to two responsible adults with the ability to give it everything we can't is the very best thing I can do for it. It's the very best thing _we _can do for it," she reasoned feebly, the fight going out of her as quickly as it had appeared. Ricky shook his head.

"I may not have the right to have much of a say in any part of this," he reminded her. And maybe himself, too. "But I won't be able to agree to this, Amy. I can't."

She sighed and wrapped her arms around her abdomen, settling them just above her distended bump. "This was stupid," she whispered though her words loud enough for him to hear. She raised her head, her eyes misty. "Can we at least agree to disagree?" she pleaded quietly.

Ricky barely spared her a glance as he turned heel without a word, walking back in the direction of where he had parked the car. She released a shuddering breath.

Silence was always the loudest answer, wasn't it?

Wiping her cheeks, Amy followed.


	9. Neutral

Like I said, I've been hit with a lightning bolt of inspiration as of late and like all things spontaneous, I'm not sure how long it'll last, so I'm trying to do as much as I can while I can at the moment.

Happy reading!

**I own nothing of The Secret Life of the American Teenager except the plot and any unfamiliarity's that are woven into it. Additionally, any outside information gathered and used in this story is credited to its various creators. Everything else belongs solely to Brenda Hampton.**

* * *

"**One Step Forward"**

**--Chapter Nine: Neutral--**

**By marissa-christina**

* * *

Amy slouched in her chair, grimacing as her mother made yet another lap around the kitchen table and let out yet another frustrated sound before stopping and turning to face her. Anne's lips were set in a thin line and her eyes were mere slits as she leveled her gaze onto her daughter. "I'm really mad at you, Amy."

Hunching her shoulders, Amy bowed her head. "I know."

When Ricky had pulled up a block from her house, Amy hadn't bothered to say anything to him, not that he stayed long enough to listen anyway. He pulled away from the curb, tires squealing, and sped down the street the moment Amy closed the door. She then made the short trek to her house, where she found her mother waiting for her at the front door. The house phone clutched in her hand and her eyes flashing, Anne had simply ordered Amy to the kitchen. Ashley, shooting her sister a sympathetic grimace, had disappeared up into her bedroom.

Anne pulled out another chair and sat down opposite of Amy, folding her arms and drumming her fingers along the wooden surface. "I can't believe you'd cut class," she said. She let out an incredulous laugh. "With Ricky of all people!"

Amy sighed. "I know."

"I'm strongly considering grounding you."

"I know."

"In fact, I really think I will ground you."

"I know."

Anne frowned. "I swear, if Ben hadn't called the house to see where you were, I never would have—" Amy's head snapped up.

"_Ben_ is the one who called?" she choked out. Anne cocked an eyebrow.

"Yes, he did and it's a good thing he did, too, otherwise I never would havefound out the two of you had skipped," she admonished. "He called the main office, pretending to be your father, and made up some excuse to the principal about how you had a sudden doctor's appointment and since he was at work and I was out all day Ricky needed to drive you. Luckily, the principal didn't question the situation. Ben called me afterwards to fill me in incasethe school called me here or on my cell phone." Amy blinked in surprise; she never expected Ben to cover for her, let alone cover for Ricky, too. A wave of gratitude for the boy swept through her and she couldn't help but smile. Anne shook her head in exasperation. "You may have broken up with him, but the fact that Ben still cares enough to lie for you and then call asking if you were all right speaks volumes about his character, Amy."

Amy sighed again. "He's always been a good person, and I guess I'm glad that he still cares, but what I did today was something I just had to do, Mom."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Anne pursed her lips. "Then you'd better tell me, or else I just might carry out your punishment, first-time offense or not." She stopped and shook her head, disappointment etched into her features so prominently that Amy cringed. "This _was_ your first time skipping school, right?"

"Yeah, it was. Look, I know that I'm in trouble and that leaving school was a bad idea, but today was it. I'm done; completely and utterly done. I just can't stay there," Amy said, leaning her elbows onto the table and burying her face in her hands. "I know we played around with the idea of me going to Rosewood, but after today…" she trailed off as she glanced up, looking into her mother's eyes. "After today, I think that it's the best place for me now."

Anne sighed, too. "Before we start making arrangements and whatnot, will you at least tell me what made you skip school with Ricky?" she asked.

Taking a moment to gaze up at the ceiling, Amy shrugged. "I don't know. I honestly don't know. Maybe it's because he was just there. Maybe I wanted to see if he could _do_ anything to make this situation any easier," she said. Throwing her hand up in a frustrated fashion, Amy shook her head. "Maybe I just wanted to see if we would be able to get along enough to raise this baby." She breathed out a short, defeated laugh. "Was I ever wrong."

Anne pursed her lips together. She was more than ready to pick at her daughter for more answers, but Amy looked as though she had had a hard enough time, and damn it if Anne just couldn't muster up the strength to punish her anymore than her encounter with Ricky already had. "Okay, honey. I'm still angry with you, but I can see that if we don't do something about it now then this kind of thing is likely to happen again. So, why don't you go up to your room while I give Mr. Molina a call about Rosewood? I want to discuss a few things with him before we go ahead and ship you off."

Amy sighed again and simply nodded as she pushed herself up. "Yeah." Giving her mother a little smile, she turned and headed for the stairs.

Picking up the cordless telephone, Anne took the Post-It note with Molina's information from the fridge, but spared a long, solemn look at her retreating daughter's back before setting to work dialing the number that was given. She held it up to her ear and listened. It was picked up after the second ring.

"_Mr. Molina's office."_

"Hello, this is Anne Juergens, Amy's mother."

_"Oh, hello Mrs. Juergens. Is everything all right with Amy? She left for the bathroom this morning and when she didn't come back her Health teacher got concerned. I heard she had an appointment of some sort and left."_

Anne held back the urge to sigh. '_Thank you, Ben,' _she thought. "No, no. Amy's fine. Her doctor's office had a cancellation and could fit Amy in earlier than expected. My...my husband called her cell phone this morning to let her know that neither one of us would be able to bring her. I guess she must have ran into Ricky or something of that nature and he offered to drive her. I know it was sudden but I figured that, with their situation and all, an exception could've been made..."she cringed at the end of her sentence, hoping that she sounded convincing enough.

Mr. Molina cleared his throat over the other line. _"Oh, of course. The faculty is aware of their...situation...and as far as I know their absences have been excused."_

"That's great. Thank you so much for understanding."

_"Mrs. Juergens, your daughter is a really nice girl and I realize how overwhelming her condition must be for your family. I'm aware that it's usually school policy for guidance counselors to remain objective in the students' personal lives, but Amy's situation isn't exactly under wraps and I want to lend my support in any way I can in terms of any educational endeavors she wants to undergo."_

Anne smiled a little. "We appreciate that, Mr. Molina. Speaking of which, I actually have a few questions for you regarding her schooling."

"_Of course. How can I help?"_

"Well, Amy spoke to me about possibly transferring to another school…"

* * *

"You know I don't like waking up by myself after a workout like that."

Ricky tore his eyes away from the window to glance over at the sultry figure laying provocatively across the bed, dark brown hair falling over her shoulders in tousled waves as she tugged down the oversized t-shirt she had just pulled on. Ricky snorted. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered softly.

Adrian frowned, her delicate eyebrows furrowing together as she rolled off her bed to cross over the room to him. "What's the deal? You're not normally this moody. Come back to bed and I'll fix you up," she said, snaking her arms around his back, pushing her body against his suggestively. Ricky shrugged her off, stepping away to pull on his jeans.

"I need to get home or else my foster parents are going to start looking for me," he threw out as he reached for his sneakers. Adrian scowled and crossed her arms.

"I am getting so sick of this 'sex and run' crap," she griped, flipping her hair back irritably. Ricky rolled his eyes and turned to face her.

"Come on, Adrian. Be serious. You know that you're using me for sex, too."

Adrian scoffed incredulously. "Are you for real? _You're_ the one who called _me_ asking to come over, Ricky!"

"Yeah? Well, you never said 'no', so I guess we both screwed up." he retorted. "So much for staying away from me, huh, Adrian?" He smirked. "You like the sex just as much as I do."

Gritting her teeth, Adrian didn't say a word, but her silence was condemning enough as far as Ricky was concerned. He picked up his backpack and headed for the door before stopping long enough to realize that he had forgotten his shirt. Twisting back around, he held out his arm to her.

Narrowing her eyes, Adrian reached for the hem of the t-shirt and pulled it over her head before throwing it him. "Get out," she seethed.

He stared at her for a long moment, his dark eyes raking up and down her body. Every instinct told him to turn and walk away; to go home and forget the day ever happened.

Ricky Underwood didn't know how to just walk away, and he sure as hell didn't know how to just forget about something without doing something else.

His crumpled shirt fell from his fingers; his bag thudded to the floor.

Adrian gasped sharply as he strode over to her, grabbed her waist in his hands and pulled her forward against his chest, his lips crashing down onto hers as her arms came up to wrap around his neck, her fingers burying themselves in his hair as she pulled him backwards onto the bed.

And for the entire time afterwards, all he could picture was the image of a slight, wispy sort girl with a bulging belly looking back at him with accusing hazel eyes.


	10. Amends

I'm so sorry that I've been slacking with the updates! I know that it's been a long time, but I'm afraid life has been getting in the way of writing and with college coming up and me starting my new jobs it's only going to get busier, but I'm going to try much harder to keep up with this story. I realize that with season two already airing that I'm pretty behind with the original plotline, but I can assure you that I'm going to catch up eventually. Additionally, it looks like Brenda did a switcheroo in the personalities between Amy and Ricky this season because I absolutely _abhor_ the way Amy is acting, so her attitude is one thing I'm definitely going to tweak further down the line.

Oh, one more thing: I recently created a forum for this story for future discussions about where it's heading and I would love to hear from you guys, so please feel free to check it out!

Happy reading!

**I own nothing of The Secret Life of the American Teenager except the plot and any unfamiliarity's that are woven into it. Additionally, any outside information gathered and used in this story is credited to its various creators. Everything else belongs solely to Brenda Hampton.**

* * *

"**One Step Forward"**

**--Chapter Ten: Amends--**

**By marissa-christina**

* * *

Amy bit her lip as she stared at her phone, tapping her finger against the 'Send' button but never quite managing to apply enough pressure to carry out the action.

She had been sitting on her bed for nearly a half hour trying to muster up the nerve to call Ben to thank him for saving her butt, however, even with her mother's encouragement, the ability to hit that 'Send' button was eluding her. She just couldn't do it.

Ben had been so good to her despite everything that was going on in her life, and she had just ended whatever relationship they could've had together. She let out a humorless laugh as she flopped back onto her pillows. She had totally blown it. Bottom line, she would never, never in a million years ever find another guy willing to do all the things that Ben had been willing to do for her.

"I'm such an idiot," she muttered, tossing her phone aside. It hit her purse as it skidded across her comforter before falling to the floor. She groaned in frustration and rolled over the edge of her bed, reaching down to pick it up. As she inspected it to make sure the screen hadn't cracked, there was a sudden droning sound, and Amy froze as she turned the phone over.

'_Calling: Ben,' _the screen read, the image of Ben's smiling face flashing with the call tone. By the time she managed to snap out of her shock-induced stupor, Ben's muffled voice had already picked up the call.

"_Amy?"_

Swallowing hard, Amy held the phone up to her ear. "Hey, Ben," she whispered.

"_I called earlier, but your mom said you weren't back yet. Are you okay?" _The absolute concern in his voice made her want to cry and Amy had to take in a shaky breath.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I feel like a complete moron, but I'm fine," she said, curling her legs under her body as she made herself comfortable.

He was quiet for a moment. _"I wasn't sure what happened when I didn't see you or…Ricky…"_ he stumbled a bit over Ricky's name, but recovered quickly enough. _"…at lunch today, but I overheard some of the girls in your Health class talking about you leaving during the notes,"_ he finished tentatively.

She ran her fingers through her hair. "Yeah, the new unit kind of threw me for a loop." She thought back on the stares she had received during that class and shuddered in annoyance and shame.

Ben sighed sympathetically. "_Ms. Hoff really doesn't use much tact does she?"_ he said, and she could hear the sheepish smile in his voice. Her lips curled upwards on their own accord.

"I guess not, since most of the class figured a live subject was better than any of the diagrams she had on the projector," she muttered dryly. He chuckled and she relaxed the vice grip she had on her phone.

"_Very true, but something tells me you didn't call me to discuss Health class, huh?"_ Ben guessed, lightly forcing Amy into saying what she needed to say.

Clutching one of her pillows to her chest, Amy sighed. "I just…I just wanted to thank you for what you did today. You didn't have to," she murmured. Ben made a sort of 'hmm' sounding noise.

"_You're right: I didn't have to,"_ he agreed easily enough. She cringed, preparing herself for his biting reply. However, he surprised her once again. _"I wanted to, though." _

Shaking her head even though he couldn't see it, Amy huffed loudly. "Why, though?" she questioned, sounding frustrated in his inability to be mad at her. "After everything I did to you, why would you want to cover for me? Why would you want to cover for _Ricky_?"

He didn't answer her and for a moment Amy thought he had come to his senses and hung up the phone. _"Let's just get one thing straight. I really, really, _really_ dislike Ricky Underwood. I could really care less about what happens to him. You, on the other hand, I care about a lot and despite how things went down between us, I didn't want to see you get into trouble. It was a pretty easy decision, all things considered." _

Did his compassion show no bounds? Amy, whose hormones were already causing her to feel weepy all hours of the day anyway, began to sniffle. "I still don't understand," she said, trying to keep her voice from trembling. "I messed up so bad, Ben. I didn't think you wanted anything to do with me after the way I ended things."

Ben let out a breathy laugh, one that made her feel like she was acting silly. _"I won't deny it, I was hurt by the break-up," _he replied, the gentleness in his voice cutting her deeper than his anger ever could. _"But it forced me to finally open my eyes to what I didn't want to see before. You're an awesome girl, Amy, but I realize now that we aren't ready for such a huge commitment, and that although I love you, I never really fell _in love_ with you. I fell in love with the _idea_ of falling in love, I guess."_ He stopped and let out a rueful chuckle. _"It sounds pretty sappy, huh?" _

A solitary tear slipped down Amy's cheek. She didn't bother to wipe it away. "Not really," she answered softly. "I felt the exact same way. I really thought I was doing the right thing by you. I never wanted to see you get hurt."

"_I think, maybe, that's why it worked out so well,"_ he responded. _"I think I needed to get hurt in order to fully understand everything. Looking back, we—_I_—moved way too fast. To tell you the truth I'm kind of embarrassed."_

"Why?" she asked, honestly curious. What did he possibly have to be embarrassed about?

"_Proposing so quickly,"_ Ben said. _"I mean, I asked you to marry me on our first real date! I feel so weird about it now."_ Amy furrowed her eyebrows. The action must have been predictable for her because Ben was quick to say. _"Not that I regret doing it, because really I don't! I meant I just feel weird about how it must have seemed to you."_

"I'll admit, I was surprised. More so because you didn't even know that I was pregnant yet," she allowed, remembering the utter bewilderment she felt when he had dropped to one knee in the middle of her stuffing her face with chicken wings, followed by the agony of needing to tell him of her condition before he realized just what a colossal mistake he was making. "For a minute there I was debating on whether to run or throw myself at you. Even after I told you I was pregnant you still wanted to marry me. I couldn't believe it." She swallowed hard. "You know, there was a second where I had this feeling of absolute relief…like this was the one good thing I could look forward to during this whole situation." Amy cut herself off and bowed her head. "Sounds really selfish, doesn't it?"

"_No, it doesn't,"_ Ben replied instantly. _"If you had told me something like that when you were breaking up with me, I probably would've gotten pretty mad, but I understand better now." _He sighed and struggled to find the words he needed to explain._ "I'm happy with what we had, Amy, even though it was just a fantasy. You're the closest I've come to loving someone since my mom died, and I'm grateful for that, but I want to apologize." _

She stared at the phone in astonishment. "What in the world are you apologizing for?" she squeaked incredulously.

"_I want to apologize for pushing you into a relationship so quickly,"_ he said honestly. _"I think that I took advantage of your condition and how vulnerable you were and I'm so sorry for that, Amy." _

Amy took a deep breath and rubbed her nose. "I'm sorry, too, Ben. If I had said something earlier we could've spared ourselves all this pain."

He made that 'hmm' sound again. _"Maybe, but I'm glad it came to this, because I hope that clearing the air might give us the chance to be friends,"_ he suggested hopefully. Amy smiled. _"Unless you don't want to,"_ he hastily added as an afterthought. _"I'll totally understand."_

"No, no, friends is good. I like friends," she said, her smiling widening. "Somehow I think that's the way it was always supposed to be."

"_Yeah, I hear you."_

They lapsed into a comfortable silence.

"How exactly did you manage to come up with such a brilliant lie anyway?" she asked suddenly. "You don't sound anything like my dad."

Ben laughed. _"I'm not sure. After I got some information as to where you were, I just concocted it. It wasn't fun adding Ricky to the mix, but I figured you two really needed to talk things over if you willingly left with him."_ She could tell he felt a little put-out; she could hear the resignation in his tone. Amy sighed heavily.

"Yeah, remind me not to make that mistake ever again."

His interest peeked. _"What happened?"_ He no longer sounded like the whiny boyfriend she had come to know. Now she recognized the concern in his voice for what it really was: the concern for a purely platonic friend's well-being. Honest and open. Her _friend_ Ben was worried for her.

She smiled at the thought and then proceeded to explain her day for him as the final pieces of their doomed relationship cracked and broke away and the foundation for their new friendship slowly formed and solidified.

* * *

When Amy came back downstairs about her nearly hour long conversation with Ben, Anne was just finishing up the dinner dishes. Immediately noticing the extra spring in her daughter's step and the added sparkle in her eyes, she quickly dried her hands. "I take it you worked everything out with Ben?" she guessed. Amy grinned.

"Yeah, I did, and for the first time in a long time, Mom, I think things are going to be okay," she admitted happily. Anne couldn't help but smile with her.

"That's really good, because I have something to tell you."

Amy's eyes narrowed questionably. "What?"

"Well, I spoke to Mr. Molina about Rosewood and he set us up an appointment…"

* * *

It took the Juergens clan a good forty-five minutes to get to their destination and by the time George drove into the tiny parking lot Anne was beyond frustrated with her estranged husband.

"Honestly, George. We drove past this place about four times! How in the world could you have missed_ that _sign?" she gripped, smacking him on the arm with a rolled up newspaper as he pulled into a free space. George scowled.

"You're one to talk; you were looking out the window, too! Your eyesight must be going already, Grandma!" he snapped back. Anne let out an outraged huff and smacked him again.

The sign in question read _'ROSEWOOD PUBLIC SCHOOL'_ in a bold, almost Victorian-looking script complete with a dark magenta and gold paintjob and a pretty little floral insignia wrapping around and underneath the words. There was something else written there, but Amy was unable to see what it was.

The first few thoughts that popped into her mind as she gazed out the car window was that along with the sign, the medium-sized, single story building looked fairly new and well-kept. Having expected the Rosewood to resemble a poor, broken-down school house due to an assumed low funding and just low standards due to the students' "conditions", Amy found herself pleasantly surprised by the welcoming appearance the place provided her. The tightness in her belly receded a little.

Anne turned in her seat to face Amy. "This place looks great," she commented, echoing her daughter's thoughts. George grunted as he turned off the ignition.

"Sure, as great as a school for pregnant teenagers can be," he muttered. He cringed as Amy shot him a dirty look as they got out of the car. "No offense, baby."

Ashley tapped her chin thoughtfully as they made their way to the front entrance of the building. "It's actually pretty decent," she remarked smoothly. "I was expecting a place in the boonies." Anne raised her eyebrows.

"Nice to see you've taken an interest, honey," she retorted with a smile. Ashley rolled her eyes as she opened the door. Amy chuckled quietly as they entered through the foyer. Anne glanced down at the piece of paper Mr. Molina had scribbled the directions onto. "We need to find the main office…" she said. George snorted.

"Well, did he bother writing down directions _to_ the main office?" he cut in, earning himself a glare.

"You know what, George? If you're just going to be an obnoxious jerk then maybe you should just let me handle this!" Anne snapped, smacking his arm with the rolled up pamphlet.

George barked out a laugh. "Please. And miss this? Not a chance."

She rolled her eyes. "You're acting like something's going to happen. We're just enrolling Amy into classes. Not a huge deal."

"Ha! We're enrolling Amy into classes at a school for pregnant girls, because she's pregnant, and therefore should be where the other pregnant girls are. Oh, and she's fifteen. I'd say something should definitely happen with that whole scenario."

"Don't be an idiot. This was Amy's idea and I support her decision. It's the _responsible _thing, George." She stopped and threw him a scathing look. "Not that you'd know the meaning of the word, anyway."

George snorted again. "Yeah, yeah, I do, too, but, c'mon! What is she really going to learn here? Breast-feeding 101? The Wonders of Birth-Control 242? The Uses of Cocoa Butter 335?"

Ashley bit her lip to hide her growing smile as Amy rolled her eyes and made an un-amused face as she shuffled a few feet away.

Anne clenched her fists. "That's not funny."

"Okay, okay. It's not funny." Pause. "Seriously, though. It kind of is."

"You're impossible!"

"No, I'm just speaking the truth, Anniekins. Now, where's the main office? You find that yet on your little map?"

Anne opened her mouth to tell him just where he could shove that 'little map', but Ashley quickly interjected. "This is just a suggestion, but how about you look for a door with a sign that says 'Main Office' on it?"

The two looked at her. Ashley shrugged and motioned to Amy, who promptly opened the door to her right, aptly labeled 'Main Office' and walked inside. Following her sister, Ashley rolled her eyes at her parents. "You guys should've saved that for the parking lot," she said. "I'm just saying."

Anne stuck her nose in the air and quickly hurried after her daughters, ignoring George's sarcastic grunt as he shut the door behind them.

The office wasn't what one would call spacious, but it was large enough for two secretary-sized computer consoles, one of which was empty. Anne walked over to the only other desk. "Excuse me," she said to the secretary, whose name plate read 'Emily Decker'. "We have an appointment with Principal…" she trailed off and took a quick second to glance down at the crumpled bit of paper in her hand. "Tanner."

Emily, a decrepit-looking woman with a weathered face but surprisingly kind milky blue-colored eyes lowered her head and peeked out from above a pair of thick glasses to assess Anne. Offering her a smile, she held up one bony finger. "One moment, please," she said as she picked up her phone. Punching in a few numbers, she held it to her ear. "Hi," she greeted. "Your ten-thirty is here." She paused and smiled with wrinkled lips at what the person on the other line was saying. "Yes, I realize the time. There's really no need to force me into it, I'll go just as soon as these people get settled." Emily placed the phone back into its cradle and pointed towards the back of the office. "Go right on through that door." Anne slowly turned her head to follow in the direction of Emily's finger, but instead of a door, all she saw was a large bookcase.

"Um, door?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow. Emily smiled a little ruefully.

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear. It's right behind that bookcase. I keep telling Chelsea that we need to move it somewhere else."

"Thank you," Anne replied. The four of them walked over and stopped in front of the door as George reached out and knocked. A faint, "_Come in!" _sounded a moment later and George pushed the door open.

The single woman behind a rather large desk pushed back her chair and stood up, smiling brightly before rounding the desk to approach them. "Hello! You must be Amy Juergens," she said, shaking Amy's hand. She tilted her head at the three people standing behind Amy and her smile widened. "And the rest of the family, I'll assume."

Anne smiled back and shook the hand the woman offered her. "Yes. I'm Anne Juergens and this is my hus—this is Amy's father, George," she explained, her cheeks reddening the slightest as she waved her fingers towards him. Smirking at her discomfort, George nodded his acknowledgement. "And this is our daughter, Ashley." Ashley raised her hand in a salute.

The woman smiled again. "Welcome to Rosewood Public School. I'm Principal Chelsea Tanner."

Amy liked this woman already, finding herself almost immediately put at ease. She was younger than Amy thought she would be, possibly in her mid-thirties, and her sparkling hazel eyes were friendly.

Principal Tanner quickly gave Amy a quick once-over, and Amy was relieved to see no premature judgment clouding her face as she rested her gaze on the slight bump protruding from under Amy's flowing top. "I'm pleased that you've decided to give Rosewood a chance, Amy," she said. "I've been working here as principal for nearly six years and I've found out, more often than not, that young girls who have discovered that they're expecting a child drop out of school. It's a very positive ideal knowing that you're working to continue your education by coming here."

Amy bit her lip. "Thank you," she responded quietly. Principal Tanner smiled at her.

"I don't want to hole us up in here," she said, this time to the rest of the family. "So I'll be brief. I have received Amy's transcripts from Marc Molina and we can make up a schedule for her at the end of today's visit. However, first I think a campus tour is in order?" she offered, motioning for the Juergens to follow her. Anne adjusted the shoulder strap of her purse.

"That would be great. Mr. Molina spoke highly of this place."

Principal Tanner nodded as they headed back into the main office area. Emily was no longer behind her desk. "Yes, he called me explaining the situation in terms of Amy's schooling." They walked out to a hallway with six doors on either side. Principal Tanner pointed to each one as they passed. "Every classroom in the building is multi-use, so different subjects can be taught in the same room by the same teacher. The way it works here is that the school is equipped with the same grade system as any other school would use: freshmen through senior. Each grade has five classrooms to be used for varying subjects, like math or English."

"Are there any sort of electives?" Anne asked. "Amy is in band at Grant."

Principal Tanner shook her head. "Unfortunately, Rosewood doesn't offer those types of electives. Due to the present nature of our school, the only electives we have are those pertaining to child care and general health during pregnancy. We have an amazing health education department here," she responded, sending an apologetic look towards Amy, who simply shrugged

"I can always talk to Mr. Sedlack to see if I can still take lessons after school or something," she said. "I don't want to get behind."

Principal Tanner led them further down the hallway before stopping in front of one of the doors. "This room is our daycare facility," she explained, motioning through the door window. "Our students have the option of leaving their babies with volunteer nannies during their class day if they're unable to leave them at home. The moms are usually down here during their free periods or during the health classes we offer." She spoke quietly and as Amy peeked her head through the glass, she understood why.

There were six young women seated in various chairs inside the room, each of them holding a bundle of blankets as they slowly rocked back and forth. A few of them were conversing quietly while adjusting their arms, not noticing their audience. Amy saw that there were two older women in there as well, one of whom was sitting beside a younger girl while fluttering her hands in an animated way as she spoke.

Furrowing her eyebrows as her mother began asking Principal Tanner a few questions, Amy took a moment to gaze about the room. It was incredibly bright: sky blue walls with splashes of red, green, and yellow designs that looked as thought a giant toddler had dragged large crayons across them and big bay windows overlooking the park across the street. Amy was struck by how busy the room looked with the countless number of toys piled every which way, but also by how calm the atmosphere seemed despite the obvious sounds of fussing babies. She glanced over to look at Tanner. "There aren't that many babies in there," she remarked.

Tanner nodded. "More often than not, the girls are able to leave their child at home with another relative while they go to class, but some opt to drop them off here. We have a 'call first' policy regarding the daycare: if one of the students wants to bring her baby with her, she has to call to let the staff know by a certain time that she's dropping the child off. That way we're able to get enough volunteers to watch them before classes start," she clarified. She pointed to the two older women. "It's worked pretty well since we started enforcing it. Like today, only those six girls called in. Evelyn and Jeannine were asked early this morning to come in to help."

"Now, what about if the kid needs to breastfeed?" George blurted out. Ashley snorted in silent laughter as her mother and sister hissed out in mortified unison.

"_George!_" "_Dad!_"

Principal Tanner chuckled as Anne and Amy flushed in embarrassment. "The mothers are sometimes pulled from class if that's the case and they didn't leave any bottles for the nannies. However, we usually have them fill out paperwork regarding their baby's needs, like whether or not they breastfeed or if they have medical needs that have to be met at certain times during the day."

George nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets as he considered her words. "That makes sense, I guess. How long do the kids get to use the daycare?"

"Well, the daycare is included in the tuition, so usually as long as the mother attends here. Most of the girls leave right after the birth to return to their previous school or transfer somewhere else, but some choose to stay here until the year is out."

"Speaking of the birth," Anne started, fishing out a piece of paper from her purse. "Amy's not due until the end of April, but during the days she's out, what will she do about the work she'll miss?" Amy noticed the clinic's logo on the paper her mother held and wrinkled her nose.

"We'll actually let her do most of the work early so she'll be ahead by the time her due date arrives. It really depends on what she's done before she came here, so when we make up her schedule I'll go over the classes she's taken at Grant thus far so we can make a tentative outline," Principal Tanner said.

"That sounds great," said Anne. She looked at Amy. "What do you think, honey?"

Amy chewed thoughtfully on her lip, considering everything as she turned to stare back into the colorful room. After a few long minutes, she extended her arm to Principal Tanner. "I think I'd like to make my schedule."

The woman smiled, her hazel eyes warm and welcoming as she clasped Amy's hand into her own and gave it a good shake. "Excellent. Welcome to Rosewood, Amy."


End file.
